#I just be rambling in these tags I perhaps need to calm down lol

[murdleandmarot]

The gang’s all here!! They’re on the case!! And there’s no ghost that they wouldn’t chase!!!!!

@mysticalcats’s Foxglove, @toki-toro’s Chaumet, @emimii’s Clownaire, and my own Bluebelle :)

[oreomonsterhunter]

Life Sucks

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Word Count: 10K (I know.....this was a surprise for me, too)

Genre: fluff, romantic comedy

Warnings: language (our characters have a tendency to curse, apparently)

Summary: Sunshine reader is in love with love, but hasn’t had much luck with it herself.  When she meets Minho, a self-proclaimed cynic and disbeliever of “true love”, she’s determined to change his life.  If she can’t find the love of her life, she’s going to try to find his.

This fic was inspired by a tag game once upon a time.  It was supposed to be a short drabble, but apparently I can’t hold back with Minho.  Tag game featured this specific Lee Know and just kinda spiraled from there lol

Nearing the end of January, winter sometimes seemed endless.  Yet when you stepped out into the morning chill, you were pleasantly surprised to find the snow banks melting a bit.  Your boots splashed through small puddles as you strode down the street, and you smiled softly at the lavender sky.  It was still early enough—for a Saturday—that the sidewalks weren’t too packed yet, so you indulged in a more leisurely walk than usual, dancing along to the music from your headphones.  You caught a few odd looks, but you simply smiled and waved at everyone you passed.  They could judge your happiness all they wanted, nothing could possibly spoil your day when it was off to such a good start—

“Shit,” you gasped, jumping back onto the curb as a car barrelled through a red light.  Had you been a second slower, you would’ve been a vehicular manslaughter case.  “Asshole,” you hollered after them, flipping two middle fingers in the air.

You exhaled a sharp breath through your nose, attempting to banish the exasperation and get back into your music again.  More careful this time, you double checked both ways down the street before entering the crosswalk.

Unfortunately, your streak of bad luck continued.  Just as you hopped off the street, a truck passed by behind you, tires bumping through a pothole.  And with the recent snowmelt, this resulted in a spray of cold water hitting the backs of your legs.

You froze, mind stuttering as you tried to comprehend how the morning had taken such a turn, all within your first five minutes outside.  Pursing your lips, you twisted around to inspect the damage.  The dirty water might stain your jeans, but the most pressing matter was the cold and wet denim now plastered to your legs from your calves to the backs of your knees.  You bit your lip, contemplating just turning back and spending the whole day in your apartment.  Pajamas, a blanket, hot coffee and tea readily available.  Maybe a movie, just because you could.

Then you shook your head, determined to make the best of the day.  You wanted a cappuccino, dammit.  And chocolate babka from the cafe.  No homicidal drivers or puddles could stop you.  It was a Saturday, just past sunrise, and you had a whole day ahead of you.  No need to wallow a few minutes in.  And besides, who knew what would happen.

You set off for the cafe, determination heavy in each step.  You forced a smile back onto your lips, though it was thinner than before.  You switched to a different playlist so that your boots could thump the concrete in time.  And you breathed, spooling calmness back into yourself.

It was a Saturday.  You might meet the love of your life today.  And nothing could stop you from finding out.

The bell over the front door jingled merrily, and you softened a little further, relaxing into the familiar surroundings.  You hardly even noticed the damp denim chafing your legs as you skipped up to the counter.

Ruth, currently manning the register, chuckled as she rang up another customer.  “Well would you look at that, the sun came shining right in our front door,” she said.

“Good morning,” you giggled.  You waved to Jonathan, Ruth’s husband, in the back.  The couple had been running the little cafe and bakery for years, and you were a faithful customer, coming by at least once a week since you first moved to the neighborhood.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he called, hands busy kneading dough for what would doubtless become something delicious.  You hummed thoughtfully, considering the baked goods in the glass case before you.

“Your usual?”

You tapped a finger on your chin, “You know, the poppy seed muffins look awfully tempting.  I might just have to switch it up today.”

Ruth nodded, tapping on the register.  You handed over the requisite bills and she shooed you off, sliding the muffin over the counter.  “Go on now, a table opened up by the window, perfect spot.  I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you said, but Ruth was already fussing over the espresso machine.  Shaking your head, you weave through the maze of tables and chairs, dodging patrons on your way to the window seat.

You had your eyes on the prize, and you were only a few feet from the chair when you pulled up short.  A stranger, their back to you, plopped down in your chair.  You blinked, suddenly and painfully aware of your wet pants, the muffin growing cool in your hand, the fact that you could give up now and walk home but perhaps you’d just get hit by a car and never get a chance to enjoy your breakfast.  You sighed deeply, breathing out through your nose as you closed your eyes, seeking inner peace or something.

“Can I help you?”

The voice knocked you out of your momentary meditation, and you looked at the table thief in surprise.  He loosened the fluffy scarf around his neck before sliding his arms out of his winter coat.  A beret, of all things, tilted dangerously to the side before he adjusted it on his head.  He looked like some kind of absent-minded professor, but for the youthful features that peered up at you.  A sharp nose, tinted red from the cold, and a soft mouth.  Dark and depthless eyes, paired with high cheekbones and a cutting jawline.

You realized you were staring when he waved at you, eyes widened.  “Hello?”

“Um, sorry, I just,” you stammered, lost for words.

“Do you want to sit or something?”

You stopped again, mouth dropping open.  You checked the time—you had fifteen minutes or so, enough time for another table to open up.  “Uh, sure, if that’s ok with you.  I was hoping for a table, I’m meeting someone,” you said, beginning to ramble.

“No problem, I don’t need all this space, and I’ll head out soon,” he cut you off, raising one brow at you when you continued to stand there, rooted to the spot.

Ruth’s arrival with your cappuccino was what ultimately forced your hand.  You sat down, gratefully accepting the drink, your smile less shaky with a taste of the familiar.

“I didn’t think they did table service,” the stranger mused.

“They don’t, I just know the owners,” you shook your head, cutting yourself off when you saw his disinterest.  “Sorry, I should introduce myself,” you switched tacks, giving your name with a bright grin.  So what if it was forced?

The stranger looked at you, and his lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk.  “Minho,” he responded.

Silence fell, heavy and awkward, and you found yourself leaning forward desperately.  “So how’s your day so far?”

Minho snorted, reaching for his own drink—an iced americano, you guessed, despite it being the middle of winter.  “Probably better than yours.”

“What?” your brows furrowed in confusion.

He gestured to your legs with one hand.  “Unfortunate accident this morning?”

Your lips tightened, holding back a frown, “Puddles, you know.”

Minho sighed, sounding sympathetic now, rather than snarky.  “Yeah, life sucks, doesn’t it?”  And there was the sarcasm again.

“One or two bad things doesn’t mean life sucks,” you countered, sipping your coffee.  “I’m excited about the rest of the day, it’s not even eight in the morning!  And it’s the weekend, and it’s sunny and warm, and I have hot coffee and a delicious muffin, and the world is out there and ready to be enjoyed,” you finished, lips curling up as you looked out the window at the sunrise, the horizon flaming golden.

“Sounds like you’ve never had a job,” a harsh voice cut into your admiration.  Your smile faltered as you looked back at Minho.  You gaped at him, brain processing the way this soft-looking boy sounded like the king of cynics.  The last thing you expected from someone wearing a fuzzy beret and looking like a sly teddy bear was this blunt conversation.  “No one’s that excited when they have to work fifty plus hour weeks to pay the bills.  Trust fund baby?” he inquired, sipping calmly.

Yep, there was no fighting the frown now.  “No, and I don’t appreciate the judgement.  Why can’t I just be happy?”

Minho smirked, “Never said you can’t.  I just wanted to see if you had a personality beyond being Positive Polly.”

Your eyes flamed, but your phone buzzed, distracting you before you could smite the snarky boy.  You fumbled at your coat pocket, whipping out the device to check for a new message.  You slumped—just a spam email.

“Waiting for something important?” Minho asked, tilting his head.

You huffed, shoving the device back in your pocket.  “As a matter of fact, yes,” you sassed, tossing your hair over one shoulder.  “I’m waiting for a date.”

He hummed at you, expression unreadable.  “You’re too excited.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the cafe.

“You’re significantly early, watching the clock like a hawk, and they haven’t even texted you an update.”  He took a long sip.  “What time is your date anyway?  Eight in the morning?  They’re not coming.”

Your smile faltered again.  Damn him, why was a total stranger dimming your joy?  You shoved your chair back, even though no tables had opened up yet.  You’d wait by the counter and chat with Ruth.  Anything was better than this asshole.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock himself.  “Five past, and still nothing,” he commented.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

A spark appeared in his eyes, and he grinned.  “Good to see you have some backbone,” he commented.

You could’ve sworn steam was coming out of your ears, but your phone vibrated again.  You checked the lock screen, seeing a new text pop up from Jay: hey I can’t make it.  You swiped on the message, but nothing followed it.  Seriously?  That was it?  No explanation, and not even a half-assed apology?

“Told you so.”

You spun to face Minho, glare renewed.  “And what makes you so sure of yourself and my date?” you demanded.

He snorted, “Life sucks; so does dating.  The only thing you’re guaranteed is disappointment.”

Your anger faded slightly as you watched the boy sip his iced coffee, his silhouette stark against the snow outside.  When you took a breath to get past your own mingled frustration—both at Jay and your new snarky companion—you saw the tense lines of his face.  You wondered what disappointment had left Minho so defensive.

“Alright, enlighten me,” you said, throwing yourself back in the chair.  This time, you settled in, sliding out of your coat and leaning forward with your coffee.  “Who broke your heart?”

A look of disgust slid over those pretty features.  “No one broke anything,” he scoffed, turning to the window and giving you another dose of his sharp profile.  You rested your chin on your hand thoughtfully, just watching him and waiting.  “Stop looking at me like that,” he muttered.  “You’re not my therapist.”

“But I am a perfectly kind stranger.  And strangers are the easiest people to talk to,” you said sunnily.

“And don’t sound so happy.”

“No can do, people call me Sunshine for a reason.”

Minho gave a long-suffering sigh.  “I’m not calling you that.”

Now you were the one with a cocky smirk, “Why, does it hurt your delicate masculinity?”

A beat of silence, and then, “One of my best friends is called Sunshine.”  Minho looked at you sharply.  “I’m not calling you that,” he said again.

You waved him off, oddly touched in spite of his gruff tone.  This human version of grumpy cat had a best friend named Sunshine?  Incredible, and surprisingly soft of him.  “Ok fine, no arguments from me.  Tell me about her.  Or him, whoever it is,” you stumbled over your words.

Minho didn’t seem to notice your blundering.  He stared somewhere beyond your shoulder, “No one broke my heart.”  Then his eyes focused on you again as he asserted, “I’ve just experienced enough to know better than to hope blindly.  The world isn’t looking out for you.”

Humming, you folded your arms as you considered his statements.  “Well, I believe in true love,” you started.

“Why am I not surprised?”  Minho groaned, rolling his eyes.

“I also believe in the power of positive thinking,” you continued as if he hadn’t spoken.  Ignoring his dramatic moaning, you steamrolled ahead.  “Yeah, my morning turned out pretty shitty, but if I just go crawl back in bed, I’ll have wasted a whole day over something as silly as wet jeans.”

“Wet jeans and being stood up.”

“And being stood up,” you allowed, gritting your teeth to maintain a smile.  “But if I let that stop me from living my life, then I’ve let the negative win.  If I go check out a new dating app or two and keep trying, one day I’ll have something good.”

Minho put his coffee down, resting one hand on the table as he met your eyes, gaze hard.  “Listen, nothing good comes out of a dating app.  You’re wasting your time.  And didn’t you say you hate doing that?”

You wanted to argue, but your friends had told you much of the same.  Minho was just less polite in his delivery.  But you hadn’t had any luck with real life men, either.  Case in point: your irritating argument with the perfectly attractive guy in front of you.  So that left apps, even if the pickings were regrettably slim.  And only growing slimmer, if the ghost date was any indication.  You didn’t have the guts to tell Minho that this wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up.

Then you had an idea.  Your grin widened, and Minho’s irritated expression faded into apprehension.  “Well if I’m doomed to never find love,” you started, batting your eyelashes teasingly.  “Why don’t I look for the love of your life instead?”

Minho blanched, recoiling with enough force that his chair rocked back on two legs.  “Yeah, no.  I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“I think it’s a terrific idea,” you beamed at him.  “I’ve been a successful matchmaker for a bunch of my friends, too.  I’ve just had trouble finding my own love interest.”

“What is this, a rom com?” he hissed.

You clapped your hands, overcome with excitement for the first time since the puddle.  “Oh, a romance, I wish,” you nearly swooned at the thought.  “I promise I’ll do my best.  You’d get along great with one of my friends, they’re just as irritable as you.”

Minho exhaled sharply, massaging his forehead with one hand.  He closed his eyes, muttering, “What am I doing here?”

“Wait, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.  No matchmaking until I know you better,” you amended, whipping out a notebook and pen from your bag.  You had just about everything in there—you never knew what emergency might pop up, like brainstorming a match for a stranger.  “What are some of your hobbies?  Favorite color?  Ooh, what about first date activities you love?  Oh my goodness, wait, are you looking for men or women?”

Part of you expected Minho to shove his chair back and leave.  You wouldn’t be too upset, that just meant you’d have the table to yourself, even if you weren’t waiting on a date anymore.  But you didn’t totally hate this guy.  And another part of you kind of felt bad for him.  He’d never experienced love!  Not that you’d had a taste of true love, either, but you knew what was out there.  And it was a shame that he didn’t see that too.  It was like...someone hating your favorite holiday—unacceptable, if only because you wanted everyone to enjoy it as much as you did.

You begrudgingly admitted that another teeny tiny part of you thought he was too attractive to be so cynical of love.  Some lucky girl out there was waiting for Minho, and you were gonna help her out, even if it meant dragging the man kicking and screaming towards her.

But Minho didn’t do what you expected.  He didn’t storm off, coffee in hand, scarf flapping in the wind dramatically.  He sighed and stood up, but made no move for his coat.  “If we’re doing this, I need more coffee,” he said, then turned and made a beeline for the counter without any further explanation.

You blinked after him, more than a bit surprised.  He was...going along with this?  You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully, watching his shoulders flex beneath his turtleneck as he talked to Ruth.  His head turned slightly, and you caught a glimpse of his smile—a real one—taking your breath away.

Now, if only you could get him to smile like that for any potential dates.  You clicked your pen with renewed vigor, laughing when Minho approached with a new coffee, exasperation written into every line of his face.

* * * * *

It was a lovely Thursday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your comfiest pajamas.  Your only companions were a blanket, a mug of tea, and your phone, which you checked every fifteen seconds.  The first time all week that Minho hadn’t answered your messages, and it was the night of his first date.  You were buzzing with anticipation, practically vibrating as you waited for news, not caring who it came from first.

Finally, you gave up waiting, throwing the blanket as you went to reheat your tea, since you’d let it grow cold while refreshing your messages.  The second you reached the kitchen, however, you heard a buzz.  You dashed to the couch, scrambling for your phone to find a text from Mari:

He had to dip early, lame date

You nearly screeched.  He left?  Your fingers pounded the screen:

What!?!?!! Did he say whyyy?

Mari’s response was short and to the point:

An “emergency”

You could read between the lines.  Mari was irritated, to say the least, since the blind date had been your brilliant idea.  But what on earth had happened with Minho?  Your stomach dropped, considering that he might have an actual emergency.  You quickly tapped out a message to him to check in, gnawing your lip in worry.

Hey, Mari said you had an emergency, is everything ok?

You waited what felt like ten thousand years before finally seeing the little bubbles appear.  His message, however, was not worth the wait:

Didn’t get on with her

You fumed, pressing dial on his contact with enough force, you were amazed your screen didn’t crack.  “You left because you didn’t like her?” you screeched as soon as he picked up.

“Yes.”

Gaping like a fish, you fumbled for words to explain how bad that was.  “You can’t just—”

“But I did,” Minho cut you off.

“But you can’t,” you said, exasperated.  “Jeez, I thought you knew what you were doing.  Obviously not.  You need a practice date or something so my friends don’t murder you.”

Now it was Minho’s turn to squawk indignantly.  “I do not need practice,” he started.

“Yes, obviously you do.  You might look like a player but you’ve obviously never talked to a girl for more than ten minutes,” you scolded him.  “Who leaves in the middle of a date?  With that bad of an excuse?”

“I hate wasting my time.  Didn’t we discuss how we should avoid doing that with our love lives,” he snarked.

You groaned, “There’s a difference between not wasting your time and being rude as heck.”

“So what?  She was abrasive, rude, cynical, and had a terrible sense of humor,” Minho said, as casually as if he was discussing the weather.  “I can’t believe you’re friends.”

“That’s a pretty great description of you, too,” you sassed back, irritation taking over.  “We might not be that close, but you can’t just insult everyone I set you up with.”

“Who said I wanted you to set me up with anyone?”

“I assumed you did, otherwise why are you going along with this?” you tried your best to calm down, lower your voice.  But something about Minho just put your back up.

“Uh,” Minho actually seemed lost for words.  Your ears perked up, eager to catch his answer.  “My mom wants to set me up with her friends’ daughters,” he tossed out at last.

Seemed a bit too easy.  “Sure,” you drawled, leaning back on the couch.

“Yes, really,” he sneered, and you giggled, picturing the exact expression on his face.

“Ok, whatever you say,” you allowed, laughing slightly.  “But you’re still going on a practice date.  Tomorrow night, six o’clock.  Meet me at the cafe.  If you’re not there, I’m gonna find your mom and help her out.”

You hung up on him before he could argue with you, grinning madly as you concocted your plan.

* * * * *

You half expected to wait for Minho to show up, much like your friend did, but much to your surprise, he was waiting for you under the awning when you arrived.  “You’re late,” Minho accused, and you grinned sheepishly.  You may or may not have lied about the time.  Just in case.

“The queen is never late.  Everyone else is simply early,” you quipped.  Minho rolled his eyes—absolutely what you expected.  You giggled, linking your arm through his and tugging him down the sidewalk with you.

“Woah,” Minho yanked at his arm, trying to free himself.  “If you wanted to hold hands, you could have asked.”

“You’re too much of a grinch, you’d just say no.”

“Exactly.  It’s called consent, sweetheart.”

He nearly fell at the sudden freedom when you released him, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets to escape the chill.  “Alright, follow me then, you unromantic dork.”  He muttered under his breath as you skipped away, having fun despite his attitude.  Time to show him what a real date looked like.

Five seconds later, and not even two blocks from the cafe, Minho groaned, “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

A pause, then, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” you told him, not for the first time.  He’d texted you all night, demanding to know, but your lips were sealed.

Except a certain someone seemed determined to annoy the answers out of you.  “Are we there yet?”

You sighed, your skip feeling a little less peppy.  “No.”

“Are we—”

“Minho,” you ground out.  “If you ask me that one more time, I’m taking you to get your nails done.”

“Ok, sure.  I could use a bit of pampering,” he said, the epitome of casual.

You stared at him.  “This feels like a trick,” you said slowly.

A grin flashed, “That’s because it is.  It’s after six, they’re all closed by now.”  But then he frowned slightly.  “Now you have me wanting a manicure though, I’ve never gotten one.”

Your brows were practically in your hairline but you just nodded.  “Ok, another time, then,” you agreed.  You caught sight of a familiar street sign and quickened your steps.  “Almost there,” you were nearly vibrating in excitement.  You felt Minho’s eyes on you, your skin prickling with awareness, but you ignored him in favor of racing around the street corner.  And there it was—the zoo!  All lit up...all lit…...not lit up at all.  Your feet stumbled to a halt.

“So the zoo is open at night now?” Minho inquired at your shoulder.

You gaped at the dark expanse before you.  “But where are the lights?”  Because indeed, not a single light was on in the zoo.  You’d just visited, not too long ago, and they had been open for night visits, so guests could walk around and see the trees all lit up, and wave hello to a few animals in the enclosures.

“Lights?”

“The Christmas lights,” you cried out, frantic.  “They were up the last time I was here.”

“You mean a month ago?  For Christmas?  Back when it was still December?” Minho questioned you.  You nearly snapped back before you realized.  It was January.  February next week.  Of course the lights were down, what kind of idiot were you?

You groaned in defeat, slumping against the wall and sliding down to a crouch.  You threw your arms over your head.  “I don’t know what we’re going to do, then.  I’m sorry I made you walk all this way,” you mumbled into your knees, wishing you could disappear into the sidewalk.  Gosh, and you’d really dragged him along, hadn’t you?  He obviously hadn’t been that excited, and all of your mysterious “it’s a surprise” nonsense only made this a bigger disappointment.

“It’s a Friday night, things are still open, you know,” Minho pointed out.  “So what if you somehow forgot a whole month happened.  I forget the year sometimes.”

“What are you, an old man?” you tried to perk up, but the tease fell flat.

“I’m only twenty-two.  You must be ancient.”  You picked up your head to look at him.  A faint smile curled on his lips as he played along.

“Oh my gosh, I’m your noona.  If you’re a grandpa, then I’m practically in the grave,” you forced out a chuckle.

Minho’s smile grew, and he extended a hand.  “Come on, get up.  Night’s still young.”

For a moment, you simply stared at his hand.  Then you met his dark gaze, “You aren’t going to take advantage of this?  I thought you hated the whole practice date idea.”

He sighed, wiggling his fingers at you.  “I don’t hate spending time with you, alright?  Now get up or I’m leaving you here.”

Your mouth twitched, a true smile threatening to form, and not just a cover-up.  You slid your hand in his gratefully, and Minho pulled you to your feet with more strength than you thought he had.  You blinked at him, realizing he hadn’t let your hand go yet.  But the second his eyes followed your gaze, he dropped it, sliding his hands into his pants pockets instead.

“So where to?” Minho asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, remembering a pretty little outdoor skating rink, but the skies cracked open, interrupting you with a sudden deluge.  You gasped as the first fat raindrops splattered on your forehead, eyes widening before you made a mad dash for the nearest storefront, Minho already a few steps ahead of you.

You’d barely been in the rain for a minute, but the icy water had your teeth chattering already.  Had it been any colder, this would’ve been pretty snow.  Instead, you got an arctic firehose.

Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you peered down the street.  Beside you, Minho checked a weather app, hissing through his teeth.  “Looks like rain all night,” he muttered.

You groaned again, wanting to cry.  You’d completely messed up the evening, first with the lights, and now by not checking the weather.  You’d planned an outdoor date, why hadn’t you checked?

A hand brushed your shoulder lightly, barely detectable through your coat.  “Um, this might not be what you had planned, but my apartment is actually on this street.  Wanna just order pizza?”

Your first instinct was a vehement “no”, but you stopped that answer on the tip of your tongue.  Minho wasn’t one of the sleazy guys you’d gone out with in the past, the ones who’d thought an apartment invite was more than that.  Plus, this wasn’t a real date or anything.  It was a practice date, just pals, nothing crazy about that.  So why couldn’t you grab pizza at his place?  Especially with the monsoon and a long walk back to your own place.  And no umbrella.

You found yourself nodding, shivers wracking your body.  Minho’s teeth flashed in another fierce grin, “Alright, sweetheart, let’s make a run for it.  In three, two, one—”

The two of you raced down the slick sidewalks, dodging lampposts and puddles alike.  You skidded to a stop at one of the apartment buildings, nearly slamming into Minho’s back as he yanked the door open, and the two of you tumbled into the warm lobby.  Once out of the wet, Minho shook his head like a dog, water droplets spraying everywhere, and you shrieked, hands coming up to protect yourself.

“Sorry,” Minho laughed, not sounding apologetic in the least.  “I’m on the sixth floor, so we can take the elevator,” he said, pointing you in the right direction.

The ride up was awkward; the only sound was your jacket zipper rattling from the force of your shivers.  Minho unlocked the door to his apartment, waving a hand dramatically.  You stepped inside tentatively, toeing off your boots by the door.  You watched Minho follow suit, then pad over to a closet along one wall.  Your confusion abated when he emerged with towels, passing one to you with raised brows.  The two of you were still soaking wet, and you didn’t want to track rainwater all over his apartment.

Minho was already drying his head off one-handed.  When he stopped, letting the towel slip down to rest on his shoulders, you giggled at the sight of his hair.  He made a face, only adding to the comic effect of his hair standing on end.

“I know you drink coffee, but what about hot tea?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen while you continued to dab at your clothes.

You nodded enthusiastically, eyeing the space from where you stood in the entryway.  It was pretty minimal, not a ton of color or anything, but cozy.  Black couch, gray curtains, some photos on the wall.  Fairly tidy, but definitely nothing out of a magazine.  A meow at your feet interrupted your train of thought, and you looked down to coo at the cats that were slowly approaching.  “Well aren’t you gorgeous,” you complimented the bravest of the three, who nosed at your hand gingerly.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho said, pointing at each cat in turn.  He leaned on the counter while waiting for the water to boil.

“They’re adorable,” you beamed at him.  “And much more friendly.”

“Hey,” he narrowed his eyes.  “I’m friendly.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed at him.  Your mirth was interrupted by a fierce shiver, reminding you that you might not be dripping wet, but your clothes were still icy cold.

Minho eyed you as you wrapped your arms around yourself.  “I have sweats you can borrow.”

You started to protest, but the next shudder of cold made you change your mind.  Besides, you didn’t want to get his furniture soaking wet.  So you nodded and waited while Minho disappeared into the bedroom.  You shuffled awkwardly to the kitchen, toes curling in your socks.

Minho reappeared.  “Here,” he said, voice gruff.  He pressed a pair of sweatpants into your hands, along with a fuzzy looking sweatshirt.  Your turtleneck wasn’t too wet, just a little damp along the neckline, but you slid the extra layer over your head gratefully.  Before you had to ask him, Minho pointed to a half-open door.  “The bathroom.  I’m going to get something dry on, too,” he added.

You smiled in relief, escaping to the small bathroom gratefully.  As soon as the door was shut, you were scrabbling at the soaking wet denim, peeling it down your legs.  You grimaced, not missing this experience at all after the last time.  Minho’s sweatpants were soft and oh so warm by comparison.  And fleece-lined, too.  You slung your jeans over the shower rod to dry, rolled the ankles of your borrowed pants—just enough so you wouldn’t be drowning in excess material—and went in search of that promised hot tea.

You found Minho on the phone in the kitchen.  When he noticed you, he waved you closer.  “Do you like anything on your pizza?” he asked.

“Um,” you scrambled to collect your thoughts.  “Cheese?”

Minho cracked a smile.  “Cheese it is then.  And peppers, onions, cherry tomatoes, garlic, basil,” he rattled off what sounded like an entire grocery list.  When he noticed you staring, Minho raised his brows in confusion.  You shook your head with a small laugh, leaving him to it.  On the counter behind him, you found two mugs, tea bags already steeping.  You wrapped your cold fingers around one, humming in contentment.  Finally, the shivers stopped.

“Wanna watch a movie while we wait for pizza?” Minho asked, but then he froze, grimacing.  “Oh shit, sorry.  I mean, you can go home if you want.  I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t want to stay.  I have an umbrella, and you can keep the sweats I guess—”

“Sure how about a romance?” you interrupted him, grabbing your tea and making your way to the couch.  You plopped down, eyeing Minho, who was still stiff as a board by the counter.  You giggled at him, “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from Mr. Darcy.”

That seemed to knock him out of his stupor.  An indignant expression wiped away any trace of sheepishness, and he stomped over to find the remote.  “Yeah right,” he scoffed.  “I’m not watching a romance.”

“A romantic comedy then,” you decided, snatching the remote out of his hands.

He grabbed it back, lightning quick.  “Action.”

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly.  “Drama.  Fight me and I’ll demand a Hallmark movie.”

Minho smirked, “Fight me and I’ll make it a horror movie.”

You groaned in disgust, glaring at him.  “Ok, fine, let’s fight over it.  Rock, paper, scissors?”

He rolled his eyes, but ended up on the couch beside you, holding one fist out to meet yours.  “Best out of three,” he smirked.  “Get ready for a zombie fest.”

After a crushing defeat, Minho slumped on the couch, moaning dramatically when you selected Pride and Prejudice.  You giggled at the grumpy man beside you, and his similarity to Mr. Darcy.  Most notably their matching pouts.

To your surprise, Minho didn’t interrupt the movie once.  Sure, he grumbled at first, but when you snuck a peek at him after about half an hour, you caught him watching intently.

You’d seen the movie at least a dozen times by now, but you still couldn’t resist the pull, and your heart fluttered at the brush of hands the way it did every time.  Your breath caught at every interaction, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away to save your life.  Until the pizza arrived, at least.  You were about to press play, two slices at the ready, when Minho looked over at you.  “Why are you so in love with the idea of love?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a moment, taken aback.  “What?”

“Not just the movie, but real life,” he said, twisting to face you fully.  “Why are you so determined to find Mr. Right?  Or to set me up on the perfect date?”

“Don’t you want to find someone?” you questioned him, backing away from the question.  “You can’t possibly be putting up with me just to avoid your mom playing matchmaker.  I’m literally no better than that.”

He scoffed, “You haven’t met my mother.”

“Maybe I should team up with her.”

“Oh please no.”

You grinned, grabbing a slice of pizza.  “Oh please yes,” you teased.  “Two matchmakers are better than one.”

Minho shot you an unimpressed look.  “I told her I already have a girlfriend, but I felt bad lying to her, so I’m hanging out with you instead.”

You nearly choked on your pizza.  So you were a pity friend, great.  Or worse, you weren’t even real friends, you were just a convenient excuse to alleviate Minho’s guilt complex.  You set the slice back down, no longer hungry.

“Hey, you know I’m joking, right?  That was a joke.  I’m sarcastic all the time, remember?” Minho nudged you.

“Yeah, sure.”

Minho sighed, leaning over to bump his shoulder into yours.  “I might not love the matchmaking, or this dumb movie, but I guess I’m glad we bumped into each other so I could tell you to dump ghost boy from Tinder.”  You snorted, biting back a small smile.  Noticing this, Minho forged ahead, “And this better not be part of the act to get me to forget my first question, because you still haven’t answered.”

“Minho,” you whined.  “Why does it matter?”

“Pretend it’s girls night.  We’re practically having a sleepover, minus the nail polish and braids.  This is the part where we talk about boys,” he smirked.

“I hate you.”

“Do we need to watch 10 Things I Hate About You next?”

Your brows rose.  “I thought you didn’t like romance, how do you even know that movie?”

“.....No reason.  Now answer the question already,” he huffed.

You sighed, curling up on your end of the couch.  “I guess it’s just something I’m not good at, so I can’t help wanting it to fall in my lap,” you said.  “I can’t pull all nighters to find love, that’s not how it works.”

“Well no, studying isn’t the answer,” Minho agreed.

“My parents have the kind of love I want.  I’m not rosy-eyed or anything, I know it’s hard work and commitment.  But the friendship—that’s what I love the most.”

The two of you sat in silence for a little while, Minho chewing on your words.  And you mused on your recent attempts to find a partner.  Perhaps dating apps weren’t the way to go, you admitted.  Not to Minho, though.  He’d never let you hear the end of it.

“Maybe,” Minho started.  “You should look for new friends instead of new boyfriends.”

“What do you think this is?” you laughed.  “I’ve been setting you up, not looking on Tinder or whatever for myself.”

“Good, you’ve wasted enough time on those trash apps already,” he groused.

You grinned at him, “So I guess you don’t want me to start looking for Bumble girls, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

You giggled, but Minho pressed play on the movie before you could tease him any more.  To your surprise, he looked as interested in the ending as you were.  You doubted he was misty-eyed like you, though.

A yawn snuck up on you, and you glanced at the clock in surprise.  How had it gotten so late?  “I should probably be going,” you started.

“I’ll walk you home.  It’s late.”  Minho grabbed your dishes to bring to the sink, snatching them right out of your hands.  You blinked after him, then shrugged, making your way to the bathroom.

Unfortunately, your jeans were still damp, but they’d be fine for the walk home.  You squeezed yourself back into the denim, emerging with the borrowed sweatpants.  “Laundry?” you asked, since Minho was busy with the dishes.

“Just inside the bedroom, next to the door,” he gestured with his chin, hands still sudsy.

You slid the sweatshirt off as well, placing both in the hamper by the door.  Despite your curiosity, you didn’t linger, but you caught a glimpse of an equally tidy bedroom.  And a large bed with dark sheets.  Why was your heart pounding?  Mr. Darcy hadn’t been that distracting.  You shook your head, hurrying out of the room.  Only then you came face-to-face with Minho, and you had to fight a blush.  What on earth was wrong with you?

The awkwardness continued, and you felt strange and itchy the whole walk home with Minho.  You were hyper aware of how close you were under the umbrella, of the way your elbows brushed every few steps.  Minho was surprisingly quiet, as well.  Ordinarily, he’d be making fun of you by now.

As you walked the last block together, you tilted your head to look at him.  “So tonight was a fail,” you said.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“The practice date?” you giggled at his expression.  “Total failure.”

Minho’s frown deepened, “I thought it was fun.  Even if you made me watch a period drama.”

“Oh no, it was wonderful, but the date part of it was a bust.  We need to do another, since tonight doesn’t count,” you told him, slowing to a stop in front of your building’s entrance.

“Well what does count?” Minho asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

“Hmm, something in public.  No one ever does a private first date, and obviously that’s what you need the most help with,” you sassed.  “Maybe I’ll kick your ass in laser tag or something.”

“Maybe I should beat you in bowling,” Minho retorted.

You hummed, tapping a finger off your chin.  “You might be onto something, actually.  How about you come up with our next practice date.  That’s your homework.”

“Since when is this a class?  With homework assignments?” Minho demanded.

“Oh shut it, or I’m making profiles for you on every dating app I know.”

* * * * *

You looked over at Minho, suspicion tugging at you.  “So when you said you should beat me at bowling, did you mean it?”

“I’m going to try and win at whatever we do, I’m competitive like that,” Minho said, holding the door open for you.

“No, I mean, are you secretly a professional bowler or something?” you corrected, making your way towards the shoe rental.

Minho chuckled, “I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say.”

You opened your mouth to object, but decided he was right.  “You better not be hustling me,” you threatened, slapping cash down on the counter.

“Pay per game or pay per hour?” the attendant asked.

Minho cheekily slid a few bills beside yours.  “Best out of three?”

“Insufferable,” you muttered, watching as the attendant took his money instead of yours.

At least Minho looked just as goofy as you did.  The brightly colored bowling shoes looked very out of place against his “cool guy” outfit.  You’d already poked fun at him.  Who showed up to a date wearing sweats?  Not that he looked bad in them, but you had at least dressed up a bit.  Then again, you might not have worn a dress if you had known that bowling was on the agenda.  You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater dress, feeling a bit out of place as you looked at all of the other couples.  Jeans, slacks, more jeans...why had you decided to dress up?  You should’ve known Minho would pick something casual.

“Hey, you wanna go first, or should I?” Minho’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you shook the negativity away gratefully.

“You go ahead,” you called over to him, trying to find a smile.  What were you so worked up about?  It’s not like this was a real date.  You could have shown up in a potato sack if you wanted, you weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all Minho.  On that thought, maybe he had the better idea after all.  You eyed his sweatpants enviously.  You knew how comfy they were, and they’d doubtless be better than the tights you were terrified of ripping.

“Ok sweetheart, prepare for a thrashing,” Minho joked, selecting a bowling ball from the rack.

“You prepare for a thrashing,” you countered, despite knowing it was an empty threat.  You probably needed the bumpers if you wanted anything but gutter balls.  Then you caught sight of the names on the board.  “Did you seriously make my nickname ‘Loser’?  What are we, five?”

Minho smirked as he passed you.  “We’ve been over this, I’m a grandpa, you’ve got one foot in the grave.  Childish antics are beneath us,” he said with a laugh.

“So you’re ‘Lee Know’?” you inquired, curious about his chosen nickname.

Minho turned to face you, tilting his head.  “Yeah, that’s what my friends call me.”

“...Am I supposed to call you that?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?  Call me whatever you want.  Just not ‘asshole’,” he joked.  Your heart warmed, and a true smile found its way to your lips.  You watched as Minho wiggled a little, eyeing the pins at the end of the lane.  Then, to your utmost surprise, he turned around and rolled the ball between his legs.

“What?” you choked on a laugh, nearly falling over at the sight.  Minho backed up, and you both watched as the ball rolled down the lane, painfully slow.  It ended up knocking down half of the pins, much to your surprise.  Minho just looked proud as he picked up another ball.  Miracle of miracles, he wound up with a spare.

You had no words, didn’t even bother trying to explain how his technique had any sort of success.  Your own attempt was...pitiful by comparison.  Your form looked good, but both balls wound up in the gutter in a matter of seconds.

Minho didn’t waste the opportunity to gloat.  “Told you I’d beat you at bowling,” he said with a wink.

You grumbled, flopping down onto the bench next to him.  “I didn’t expect you to be successful at the toddler technique.”

“Give it a go, maybe we’ll change your nickname if you win,” he laughed, getting up for his turn.

Halfway through the game, you even tried the ‘toddler technique’.  This was also a fail, made worse with the mortifying realization that your underwear would be visible if you bent over too far.  When your attempt ended up in the gutter, you resolved to get bumpers for the next game.

But Minho had other plans.  You had just approached the lane when you felt a hand on your shoulder.  “Keep your wrist straight, you keep twisting it at the last second,” he said.

You turned to face him, finding him close behind you.  “Anything else, wise one?”

“Don’t overthink it,” he smiled at you.  This close, you could swear his eyes were twinkling.  “We can both go get bumpers next round, I need them almost as much as you.  I’m amazed at my own streak of luck tonight.”

“I’m terrible at bowling,” you whined, looking away from him.  Your cheeks felt warm.  Gosh, it was embarrassing to be this bad.

“We can go do something else, we don’t even need to finish this game, let alone all three.  As long as you’re having fun, I’m happy.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but looked away quickly.  He was watching you so intently, the flush burned hotter, threatening to run down your neck.  “I’m sorry you paid for so many games.  We can definitely finish them, it’s fine—”

“I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do,” Minho murmured.  You looked at him in surprise, surprised to hear him sounding sincere rather than snarky.  “Otherwise, I’d be a shitty friend, wouldn’t I?”

“Right, yeah.  An asshole friend,” you agreed, nearly stumbling over the words.

“Ok, I’ll let you focus on your first strike of the night.  Don’t overthink it,” he reminded you, walking back to the bench.

You nodded, ignoring the tight feeling in your stomach that reminded you of disappointment.  And you sank another one right into the gutter.

Minho’s solution to the bowling fiasco was consolation ice cream.  Somewhat surprising, since a part of you had expected him to gloat.  Instead, he talked about anything and everything but bowling, entertaining you while you both sat at the window of the local shop.  You simply watched him, enraptured.  He had hardly opened up at all to you at first.  Visiting his apartment felt like the first peek into the real Minho.  The happy memories captured in picture frames, the handmade mementos here and there on shelves, all hints as to the soft interior of your once-prickly friend.  Now he was regaling you with stories of his best friends—brothers, by the sound of it.  Loving rivalry, playful banter, sibling torment.  And the look on his face...pride.  He was proud of them, his family.

Then you paused, tilted your head to look at him anew.  When had Minho stopped being prickly?  Where was the cynical, negative, angsty boy you’d befriended, partly out of spite?  When had he stopped trying to hold you back with barbed wire edges?

When Minho caught your gaze, he lifted one brow, mouth twitching into a crooked smile.  “See something you like?” he sassed you.  But his remark was devoid of bitterness.  It wasn’t mocking, it was warm, inviting.  It was asking you to join in on the joke.

“Yeah,” you said softly.  Then you turned up the wattage on your smile, grinning widely at him.  “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Minho rolled his eyes at your antics, spinning his ice cream cone between his fingers.  But hidden behind your grin was more than a little truth.

* * * * *

You knocked on the door, stepping back tentatively.  You could hear raucous laughter on the other side, which would ordinarily have you curious, maybe a little excited to join in.  Not tonight.  Right now, standing in the hallway outside Minho’s apartment, you were nervous as hell.  And on top of it all, you were nearly an hour late, having dragged your feet the whole way there.

“Stop it, this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, shifting from foot to foot.  It felt like meeting the parents, which was dumb.  Firstly, you and Minho were not dating.  Secondly, these were his best friends, not his parents.  And thirdly, you and Minho were good friends.  You had nothing to worry about.  Absolutely nothing.

Which was why you were currently worrying all over the place about meeting Minho’s best friends.  What if they hated you?  Or worse, what if they pitied you?  You thought you’d disappear into a crack in the earth if that happened.

Before you could spend too long contemplating your inevitable end, the door swung open, and a boy came rushing out at you.  You gasped, jumping back before he could run into you.

“Sorry, sorry, excuse me!” he blurted, skidding to a stop, then immediately taking off running down the hallway.

You blinked in confusion, but your eyes only widened when a second boy came barrelling out of the apartment after the first.  “Minho?”

Minho paused briefly, eyes alighting on your stiff figure.  “Hi!  Um, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be right back.  Go on in,” he waved at you, breaking into a jog, and then a sprint.

Immensely confused, you peered into the apartment, now that the door was wide open.  Now or never, you told yourself firmly.  Easing through the doorway, you caught sight of six more boys in various states of chaos.  Upon noticing your entrance, they all froze.  “Uh, hello there,” came a voice on your right.  You looked over to see two boys in the kitchen, appearing to be mid-struggle with a bag of popcorn.  “You must be Minho’s friend, he said you’d be coming.”

You gave a tiny wave, pasting on a sunshine smile.  “Hi guys, it’s nice to meet you, I think?  Should I be concerned about the escapee?”

Popcorn boy number two laughed, arms bulging as he ripped open the bag.  “Oh no, Hyunjin will be fine.  Minho hasn’t made him eat toilet paper in years, he’s above that now.”  You must have looked concerned, because the boy chuckled again, waving you off.  “It’s all empty threats with that one.  Mostly.  I’m Changbin, by the way.”

Popcorn boy number one stepped forward, extending a hand to shake.  “I’m Chan, and this is our menagerie of chaos.  Let me introduce you to everyone,” he offered.  You grinned at him, relieved.

By the time Minho returned, practically dragging Hyunjin with him, you were giggling on the couch with the rest of the boys, embroiled in a fierce MarioKart race.  With Hyunjin still trapped in a headlock, Minho paused to watch.  You just barely caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, too focused on staying on the track.  Jeongin had chosen Rainbow Road for your first match, and you were determined to crush them in the dust.  Even if it had been several years since you last played.

You watched as your character was knocked off the edge, a cry of dismay falling from your lips.  “Dang it, I wasn’t even in first place, what gives?”

Han grinned victoriously, only to cry out when he accidentally drove over the edge as well.  “Friends fall together?” he joked.

“You made me go ziplining.  Alone,” Minho said, announcing his presence at last.

“Uhhhh,” Han fumbled for an excuse.  “You love me anyway, though, right?”

Before Minho could retort, Seungmin stood up.  “You can play next, if you want,” he offered.

The rest of you blinked at him in surprise, before looking at his screen and realizing he’d already won the race.  Jeongin groaned dramatically, flailing on the couch as he came in second.  You and Han just gave up entirely, letting your characters fall off the track once more.  Meanwhile, Minho finally decided to release Hyunjin, and the blonde escaped to the other end of the couch, diving into a bowl of chips like nothing had happened.

Felix looked excited, so you tossed him your remote for the next round.  “I believe I was promised food,” you said, arching an eyebrow in Minho’s direction.

“I believe I told you to arrive at six,” he fired back, stalking towards you.  He finally stopped a foot away, looming over you.

You smirked at him, “What did I tell you on our first date?”

The room went silent, and you froze, realizing your mistake.  “You guys are dating and you didn’t tell us?” Han exclaimed, eyes wide.

Your mouth opened and closed, but you couldn’t seem to find any words.

“Oh yeah, real fancy dates, too.  We had dinner at the Eiffel tower last week,” Minho drawled.  “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?”  The cherry on top was when he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek.

A stranger might have mistaken his dry tone for sincerity, but everyone in the room knew Minho’s humor well.  Half of the group dissolved into giggles.  Changbin rolled his eyes and threw a pillow, but Minho caught it before it could smack into you.  “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” Changbin joked.

“All those promises and no follow through,” Han clucked his tongue in mock-disapproval, then ducked when Minho tossed the pillow at him next.

Your cheeks threatened to catch on fire again.  The situation only worsened when you met Minho’s dark gaze, his eyes ensnaring you.  “So,” you threw out desperately, clapping your hands together.  “The food?  Or am I going to starve?  Not very boyfriend-like,” you tried to laugh.  The joke must have been convincing, because the boys merely chuckled, going back to their game.

Minho still hadn’t moved from where he stood over you.  Instead of moving back so you could get up, he extended a hand.  You bit your lip, teeth digging in, but you placed your hand in his rather than make a scene.  The last thing you wanted was more attention, especially with your cheeks warming up past their usual temperature.

Fortunately, he released you as soon as you regained your footing.  Your fingers flexed lightly, hand falling back to your side.  You kept your chin high as you followed Minho to the kitchen, ignoring the prickling feeling that the boys were still watching you.

“Pizza?” you blurted out, incredulous.  “Don’t you eat anything else?”

Minho snorted, leaning against the counter.  “For the record, I do know how to cook.”

You snooped in the fridge, disbelieving.  “Of course, all evidence points to you being a five star chef,” you said, casting a pointed look at the empty shelves within.

He chuckled, folding his arms while he watched you investigate.  “Sweetheart, if you wanted me to cook for you, all you had to do was ask.”

You hummed, closing the refrigerator once more.  “I’m kinda afraid you’ll burn something, to be honest,” you teased, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and selecting a slice of now-cold pizza.  You popped the pizza in the microwave, then relaxed against the counter opposite Minho.  He was still watching you intently, and you frowned.  “What?  Do I have something on my face?” you asked him.

Minho shook his head wordlessly.  Self-consciousness took hold, and you looked down awkwardly, brushing your hair behind one ear.  “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said.  I totally didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

“I know,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a half smile.

You tipped your chin again, unable to look at him for long.  Even if Minho seemed to forgive your blunder, you still couldn’t believe you’d blurted that out.  Your hair fell in front of your face again, and you let it, happy to hide behind the locks.

Then another pair of feet appeared a few inches from yours.  Plain black socks next to your patterned ones, covered in cartoon rainbows.  Then a butterfly touch along the side of your face, soft enough that you almost doubted the sensation.  You lifted your gaze, but this time, Minho’s eyes weren’t on yours.  Instead, his laser focus was directed on the hair he was gently situating behind your ear again.

You realized you had forgotten to breathe when he finally took a step back, and your lungs remembered to inflate.

“For the record, you’re right,” Minho said softly.  “The queen is never late.”

* * * * *

It was nearing midnight by the time Minho’s friends started leaving.  You eyed the clock, then went to grab your shoes as well.  “I better get going, I want to get home sometime before dawn,” you joked.

“How close do you live?  Are you taking the bus?” Chan asked, worry evident in his tone.

You waved him off, “I’m just a few blocks away, not too long of a walk.  Bus doesn’t run after ten or so, anyway.”

Chan frowned, but Minho cut him off before he could say anything.  “I was going to walk her home, it’s pretty late.”

That was a surprise to you, but seemed to alleviate Chan’s concern.  The others waved goodbye on their way out, Chan following them.  “Nice to meet you,” he said, shooting you a quick grin before closing the door behind him.

“You really don’t have to,” you started.

“I want to.  It’s late,” Minho reminded you.

“I didn’t argue last time, but I didn’t want to steal your umbrella.”  You narrowed your eyes at him.  “I’m not some little girl in need of protection.  It’s a perfectly safe neighborhood.”

Minho didn’t look up, busy tying his shoes.  “I like walking.”

“At midnight?”

“Any time of day, really.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Do you walk Jeongin home, too?”

“Sure did.  He moved in with Han, though, so I don’t anymore,” he said simply.  “You don’t have a roommate.  If no one’s there to make sure you get home safe, I want to walk with you.”

You gaped at him, unable to fault his logic.  And not really wanting to.  “Thanks,” you murmured, scuffing one shoe into the floor.

Minho stood up again, a crooked smile on his lips.  “Don’t mention it,” he said, snagging his keys.  “After you.”

Walking home with Minho, you were reminded of the first time.  Then, you’d been so awkward, quiet.  Unsure of yourself.  You’d been worried that you were some kind of pity friend at first, but after getting to know Minho, you knew that wasn’t the case.  And now that you’d grown comfortable around each other, you could hardly get him to shut up.  Even now, he was talking about his dance team’s newest choreo, his words running together from excitement.

You smiled, just listening.  This was all you really wanted, if you let yourself admit it.  The Tinder dates were just a shit attempt at finding someone to sit and listen to for hours.  You wanted movie nights and quiet mornings with someone who cared about you.  You wanted a cute little house and kids and a dog.  Maybe a cat.  Maybe three.

Shit.

You were so wrapped up in your realization that you didn’t realize you’d reached your apartment building until Minho snagged your elbow to pull you to a stop.  “This isn’t a midnight hike, where do you think you’re going?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed nervously, “Oh, sorry, I was pretty lost in thought.”

“Apparently.  Were you listening to a word I said?  Some friend you are,” he snorted.

Friend.  Right.  Your realization didn’t mean much.  Why were you surprised?  You hadn’t had luck in the romantic department in years, why would that change now?  Minho was your friend, and it was obvious that his opinion of you wasn’t going to change.  Why would it?  He was way out of your league.

Gosh, now you felt like a fool.  You’d really just daydreamed about a happily ever after with him.  Why did you ever bother getting your hopes up?  You were always bound for disappointment.  Hadn’t your crappy dates taught you anything?

Minho called your name, bringing you back down to reality.  “Sorry,” you muttered, fumbling in your bag to find your keys.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  Shoot, now he sounded concerned.

You pasted a sunny smile on your face, “Totally fine.  Thank you for walking me back.  I won’t keep you any longer.”

You turned away to walk up the steps, but the smile fell as soon as he was out of sight.  How were you only just coming to the realization that you were halfway—or perhaps all the way—in love with him?  His face was burned into your mind’s eye.  Brows furrowed in confusion, slight pout, and those damned eyes.  You’d probably been in love with his eyes from the beginning.

“I only agreed to let you play matchmaker so I could see you again.”

You stopped at the top of the steps, not quite believing your ears.  Turning slightly, you looked at Minho over your shoulder.

Once he had your attention, he continued, “I bailed on the date with your friend because I knew you’d yell at me.”

Lips parting in surprise, you turned to face him fully.  Minho put a foot on the first step, gaze locked on yours.  You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his mouth softened into a slight smile.

“I was going to do the classic move of teaching you to bowl, but I chickened out,” he said.  “I wish I hadn’t.”

“What are you...why are you telling me this?” you asked, fingers curling nervously.

He ascended another step, “You only smile like that when you’re sad.  When you start getting in your own head about what you deserve.”  Another step, “And I’m tired of hiding.”

Now he was only two steps away.  Close enough to touch, if you dared to reach out.  You didn’t.  “We’re friends,” you said, voice small.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed.  Then he bit his lip, drawing your attention like bees to honey.  You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes firmly.  When you opened them, Minho was on the step just below you.  “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low.  You didn’t.

Your breath stuttered to a stop, your whole body stilling at the electric shock of his lips on yours.  For a moment, you were frozen, utterly focused on the whisper of a touch.  Then Minho pulled away, and you could breathe again, gasping for air.  But you didn’t want it to be over.  Your eyes fluttered open, finding his dark gaze melting into you.

This time, you let yourself fall into him, ignoring the voice in the back of your head that said this was a fantasy.  He caught you, one arm wrapping around your waist, his other hand coming to your jawline.  He ascended that final step, pulling your body into his.  His lips were plush, a little dry.  Real.  Minho was here, warm under your fingertips.

His hand slid up into your hair, slowly enough to make you shiver.  You sighed into the kiss, goosebumps appearing on your arms as his fingers gently tugged the strands.  And then his mouth opened beneath you, and you let yourself tumble into sensation, drowning in him.

You don’t know how long you kissed, but your heart was racing when you finally came up for air.  Minho panted, little breaths puffing against your lips.  He rested his forehead against yours, the weight somehow grounding you.

“Do you understand now?”  Minho’s voice was hoarse, deeper than before.  You shivered, just a bit, and the corner of his lips twitched up.

You couldn’t find words, unable to string any coherent thoughts together.  And you didn’t really want to, happy to have your mind all to yourself, no doubts in sight.  You leaned forward, placing a small kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose.  He scrunched his face up, making you giggle.  But you needed to know one thing.  “Are we—are things different now?”

“We’re dating.  Unless you don’t want that,” he backtracked, eyes wide.

You grinned at him.  “I do.”

He heaved out a sigh of relief.  “Thank goodness.  I thought I really fucked up there.”

Now you really laughed, head falling forward to rest on his chest.  Minho’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer than you thought was possible.  You could hear his heartbeat, thudding just as fast as yours.

“You said the friendship was your favorite part of love,” Minho mused.  You hummed in agreement, nodding against him.  “Well I hope you don’t get sick of me.  I hear I’m pretty annoying.”

“Minho,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you just rolled your eyes at me,” he teased.

“Well, you are annoying.  But I suppose it’s a part of your charm.”

He chuckled, “So that means you like my jokes?”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t push it.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

[katara0524]

Impromptu Ramblings about the NEO:TWEWY Demo

In case y'all weren't aware, I've been a pretty big fan of TWEWY for a couple years now, and with the sequel coming out next month, the excitement I feel for this game is greater than ever :) I played the Demo for the first time yesterday, and following a couple views of some livestreams of others playing it, I felt like sharing my (very ramble-y) thoughts prior to the release of the full game. This post WILL contain spoilers for both TWEWY and NEO:TWEWY, so if you want to avoid those from now on, please block the tags: #twewy spoilers, #ntwewy spoilers, #neo twewy spoilers, #ntwewy, and #neo twewy ^_^ Oh, and if you wanna keep up with any other posts I make about my experience with this game, please refer to the tag "kat plays neo twewy" :)

-First things first: I have not watched the Final Trailer and I don't plan on doing so to avoid spoilers, especially after the pre-release era of KH3 where a lot of the later trailers spoiled a lot of the endgame content. That being said, I've seen some minor screenshots from the final trailer including what many believe to be characters from the original TWEWY, namely Shiki and Joshua. That is all I know about the Final Trailer and I would very much like to remain as blind as possible going into NEO :)

-The very first cutscene was quite ominous in the sense that this game is likely going to be about "changing fate" (a recently common theme in Squeenix games, which I do appreciate), perhaps leading off from the end of A New Day in the OG and trying to stop an Inversion of Shibuya. Also worth noting that A New Day had similar aspects in which the main character experienced "future visions" of tragic events, although in A New Day these events were not able to be changed, while in NEO it seems like one of the main "powers" our protagonist has is specifically to rewrite these events and avoid a "bad ending." Very interesting indeed!

-I really like the revamped comic book style dialogue scenes, it's much more fluid and modern, which is an excellent direction for the series to take!

-I would love to have an actual PokemonGO knockoff of Final Fantasy creatures, please Squeenix that would be incredibleeeeee

-Also the LINE stickers??? Are so cute???

-I would just like to point out that Fret is an absolute treasure throughout this entire demo, he's hilarious and I will protect him with my life

-UHHHH don't like that Fret picked up some Reaper Pins just out of nowhere.....or the fact that they're apparently popular all over Shibuya.............did y'all not learn anything from the OG game or what lmao

-Okay so when I first got the "curry or ramen" scene and heard NPCs talking about the new curry place replacing the old ramen place I became IMMENSELY distressed that Ramen Don was totally cut from the game because....well, Ramen Don is a King okay?? But I'm glad to learn that no, he didn't fall off the face of the earth, he's still in business and he's the one opening the curry restaurant lolol. PHEW, crisis averted!

-.....I don't like the sudden appearance of a Wall Reaper and being able to read NPC thoughts. Wtf happened when they left the ramen place??? Are they playing the Game alive somehow?

-Okay so I have my own theories about this "Swallow" character and what they're up to but considering this is only the Demo and I still Have No Idea What's Happening, I'm just gonna say that I think Swallow intentionally led Rindo and Fret to the Crossing so they could join the Game. I mean, add in the fact that Swallow still communicates with Rindo during the Game and you've got yourself a suspicious character right there lol

-"Hey they're shooting off fireworks!" Fret honey that's not fireworks oof (see also: "*laughs* I'm in danger")

-WOOOOOO way to traumatize Rindo right off the bat like that LMAOO

-The visuals for the intro are VERY GOOD, the song is pretty decent until it gets all "screamo" (which I absolutely cannot stand sorry lol)

-Shoka is every Customer Service employee ever and I respect that

-Susukichi went from being "meh" to "WOW THIS GUY IS FUN" in the span of 10 seconds and I also respect that (he is also built like an Absolute Unit which is hilarious)

-The Wall Reapers (and just Reapers in general) seem.....way nicer and more helpful this time around?? Like in the OG the Wall Reapers were SO RUDE gfhjgjdfkhn and yeah I'm sure we'll get some like that but the juxtaposition of the first Wall Reaper in the OG compared to the first one in NEO is insane.

-The puzzles are quite a bit more entertaining this time around even if it's generally the same "fetch quest" formula lol

-"Rindo's Group" way to go Fret HFKJDGHSDFKJ mans really left the default name in there lmao

-OKAYOKAYOKAY so to those who aren't aware I am a MASSIVE SIMP for Sho Minamimoto, he's my absolute favorite and I think about him daily. HIS INTRODUCTION IS. INCREDIBLE. I LOVE IT SM.

-GOD hearing him actually SPEAK FULL SENTENCES is just SO SURREAL I love this sm

-Also the remix of his theme???? NEO TRANSFORMATION????? IT'S SO GOOD????????? It's like gone from a Boss Theme to a more triumphant sounding theme and I am HERE for it (every version of Transformation is just INCREDIBLE and getting a new one is even better)

-I Love Him, Your Honor

-Also idk how exactly but it's kinda weird seeing Sho in the OG vs NEO, cuz while he's mostly the same Insane Math-Obsessed Catboy, he's.....calmed down quite a bit?? Like OG made a whole point of how poorly he cooperates with others (not to mention just being completely unhinged and trying to kill everyone), whereas here in NEO he's......actually kinda working with others??? HELLO???? Sir what happened to you and Neku during those 3 years I would love to know all about it

-I guarantee you Sho is still probably scheming shite and will likely pull some total insane BS later down the road, and I am very much looking forward to that. Also, is he looking for a certain Pin or something??? Cuz he keeps talking about different Pins and even mentions "this is just another Psych Pin" like he's actively looking for a Pin to do something with. Maybe it also has to do with the "latent powers of Players" thing he mentioned as well??? What is this dude UP TO oml (also is he in contact with Neku at all?? they're both technically fugitives at this point right?? WHAT HAPPENED AFTER A NEW DAY I AM BEGGING YOU)

-I seems like Sho ALSO has an idea of what's going on in this specific game (even if he won't admit it straightforward). Per his quote "The game's 142,857. Factor it out," he's essentially saying, "This game is a neverending cyle, figure out how to get out of it" (or at least that's what I got from his "cyclic number" nonsense lolol)

-I do like how Sho mostly stays out of sight until he's needed for a battle or assisting with a mission, that's kind of on par with his whole "uncooperative" quirk from the OG, plus he might literally have to stay out of sight of other Reapers and Players considering he's likely breaking the rules of the Game (not surprising considering him and Neku broke practically every rule in the book during OG)

-The nicknames for Sho- I can't- They're so FUNNYYYY GFHJSDFKJ

-He goes from being called "Pi-Face" and "Tabooty" in OG to "Mr. Minami" and "M-Teezy" in NEO LMAOO

-(Wowee I just realized I've been mostly talking about Sho oopsies sorry y'all, this is what I meant by thinking about him almost daily he is THAT much of a fav of mine ghfkjsd)

-Okay RIP Fret and Rindo for not getting literally ANY explanation as to how the Game works OOF, that is kinda cringe that whoever gets the Pin earns points, not whoever erases the Noise (which like I understand but also URRRGGHHH I WANNA SEE THE SQUAD SUCCEED)

-"I should be going home now it's getting late" Oh you sweet summer child-

-Also love the mention of parents in this game???? KH you could learn a thing or two from TWEWY (poor Rindo's mom fhgjkdh)

-KUBO IS HILARIOUS I SUPPORT HIM AND HIS GROSS FACE (also thank you Final Trailer thumbnail for spoiling my suspicions about him very cool smh)

-Kaie is a LAD I also support him, go King type those funky texts I believe in you

-FRET PLS STOP SCANNING FHGJKSDHKJFGHFKJ he's like me when I scan in OG during Weeks 2 and 3 and see Taboo Noise coming after me ghfjdshfj

-Also Rindo can you stay off your phone for TWO SECONDS ik you're trying to figure things out but Fret is a jelly boi and I don't want him to be upset with you my guy

-Sho being an actual sorta mentor to the kiddos?? Who are you sir this is so unlike you ghfgskj what happened to the guy who tried shooting children in the face 8 times over LMAO (granted he's probably just using them but it's still nice to see him actually cooperating and sharing knowledge with the kiddos aaaaa)

-EYO EIJI OJI THE TIKTOK INFLUENCER IS BACK LMAO

-hgjkfshgkjf "we aren't glorifying capitalism on my watch" THATS SO FUNNY TO ME GFHJFSDGHJKS (also an all-orange ensemble is disgusting you deserve jail for one thousand years fkn Cheddar Goldfish Cheezit ass woman)

-WICKED TWISTERS NAME DROP EYOOO we love to see it

-gfhsgjf Poor Rindo embarassing himself for the sake of the Game that's incredible

-R e t u r n t o M O N K E. That is all.

-Dialogue during boss battles is HELLA cool i love that

-HHHHH THE KANON SCENE MADE ME A N G E R Y FRET STOP SIMPING MY GUY says the girl with a Literal Simp Encyclopedia and simps for pixels on a screen daily

-Can't wait to see the other Reapers :eyes emoji:

-CAN'T WAIT TO SEE NAGI MY BELOVED YEAHHHH WOOOOOO AAAAND that's about it for the demo lolol, I absolutely CANNOT wait for next month, this game is gonna be INCREDIBLE holy hell Prepare for more simping, more screaming, and more vibing from Yours Truly :) I fully intend on sharing more general thoughts like this on both Tumblr and Twitter so it's not just reblog-retweet-reblog-retweet with the occasional comment fhgskjd

If you wanna witness my insanity up close and personal I have a Square Enix Discord server called Sea Side Dreamers! You can look it up on Disboard, or you can add me on Discord @Katara0524#9244 for a direct link :) We have topics about Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, NieR, and ofc TWEWY (as well as other topics!), so if you want some good ol' chaos and chitchat, you're more than welcome to join!

[kogo-dogo]

i like your skyrim stuff and i wanna know more about the funky little dudes you posted in those “sentences” lol. instead of asking for more snips

You have made a mistake. Prepare for an essay.

But, joking aside, they’re Morrowind characters. I do like Skyrim, but Morrowind is my favorite game of all time and the entire reason I got into the TES fandom years ago. I don’t talk about it much on here because everyone is here for Half-Life and HRV, but... you know what? I’mma take this opportunity. To yell.

About The Guys(tm).

So, basically, in my Personal Canon, I don’t just have a Nerevarine (i.e. Protagonist) character. I have an entire crew of people who help him get through things because it just seems... more realistic for my Extremely Flawed and Terrible Nerevarine. Also, I just had a lot of characters conjured up as a teenager and it was fun to evolve it over time so they’re all friends.

They are, as follows:

- Jo’Karsa (a.k.a. “Karsaga”). Battlemage born under the Atronach. Afflicted with Wombburn. Also the Nerevarine. He’s an abnormally large Cathay-raht who has had an unusual upbringing. He was originally an orphan plucked off the streets in Corinthe and trafficked to Morrowind where he was sold as a slave. As fate would have it, a houseman under his owner took a shine to him and stole him away when they fled to Cyrodiil to avoid political assassination. Karsaga has been raised Telvanni in Imperial territory so, despite being a mighty brute of a Khajiit, he has an extreme affinity for magic and an equally extreme disconnect from his Khajiiti roots.

He speaks like a Dunmer, carries himself like a Dunmer, and has very Telvanni sensibilities. He also has an extensive criminal record from his time spent as a bandit outside of Cheydinhal, and that is eventually how he ends up on the prison boat that sends him to Morrowind. He has a bunch of aliases and an unhealthy penchant for drink and smoke. Not a fan of skooma, though. As gruff and sarcastic as he is, he has a very silver tongue and a way of winning people over and talking himself out of trouble.

Also, “youth born under a certain sign?” Nah, this bitch is 34. And smells like a wet dog.

- Dasrazel. Altmer Nightblade and Quarra vampire. He contracted his vampiric curse while trying to save his lover from the clutches of an undead menace during the Second Era, after a life working various quasilegal oddjobs that brought shame on his noble family. In life, he was a likeable but lowkey individual, and in undeath he’s still very lowkey... but perhaps not as likeable. He has to take a low dose of a calming potion to keep the inherent, violent bloodlust of his Quarra curse at bay, and it does a lot to deaden his emotions. Combine that with hundreds of years to learn how to not give a fuck, and you have a very blunt, stoic, matter-of-fact creature who only very occasionally makes quips and usually just wants to be left alone.

He is Karsaga’s closest ally, right hand man, and platonic soulmate. They met after Karsaga robbed him blind at a bar (thinking him to just be some weird, frail elf), and Dasrazel took pity on him after Karsaga ran him through with an iron saber and panicked when it... did nothing. Their bond is one of a mutual distaste for most people and Dasrazel’s desire to have companionship again.

They’re very much bros, even if Dasrazel spends most of his time not understanding why Karsaga is the way he is.

-  Neira Brenur. Dunmer Witchhunter and low-ranking member of House Redoran. She’s the daughter of a Camonna Tong member and an Ashlander woman, though her mother is dead and she spends a lot of time trying to distance herself from her racist father. She joined Redoran in hopes of atoning for the crime of just being born into a bad family, but has a really difficult time fitting in. She’s very meek and empathetic and does better in controlled duels than actual combat. The idea of actually hurting an opponent makes her sick to her stomach.

She kind of just happened to Karsaga one day, courtesy of him running afoul of her not-so-popular friend, Vandrith (we’ll get to that trainwreck later). She mainly acts as a translator for Vandrith and tries to play mediator when Karsaga starts getting too aggressive with others. She’s in good with some odd folks in Redoran and a very aggressive supporter of the Tribunal Temple, which makes it hard for her to wrap her mind around Karsaga’s existence as the Nerevarine.

Also, the fact she’s an absolute pushover means she just accepts the less-than-savory people Karsaga pals around with. She’s got a big heart and feels actual pity for his blasphemous, undead, and criminal friends. They’re good people on the inside (probably).

- Vandrith Valen. Dunmer Ordinator and conglomeration of a lot of factors coming together in the worst way possible. He is naturally “blessed by Azura” and has some degree of prophetic power, though he’s choked it down after a life of being raised Indoril. He also came to the unfortunate realization after being stationed on Vvardenfell, that he is also a descendant of House Dagoth and is haunted by the Poison Song, a “song” sent out by Dagoth Ur that warps the minds of those who are of his blood and turns them into Sleepers and Dreamers.

These two traits do not mesh well and make Vandrith more than a little unstable.

Vandrith is... prone to erratic behavior and violent outbursts and is largely under the care of his paternal uncle, Tuls Valen, the head priest of the Ald’ruhn Temple. Vandrith is also a clever and tricky bastard who has been trying to figure out how to discern Dagoth Ur’s plans from the Poison Song in order to prevent bad things from happening. Usually, he can keep things under control, but extremely bad visions, close proximity to items/places corrupted by House Dagoth, and stress can cause him to be difficult.

Beyond this, though, he’s not what you’d expect from an Ordinator. He’s very witty with a somewhat bawdy sense of humor, a very devil-may-care attitude, and he’s a huge fan of causing mischief. He forced his way into Karsaga’s social circle due to his absolute certainty that Karsaga could bring down Dagoth Ur, and Neira is his closest (and for a long time only) friend, who has figured out what all of his weird ramblings mean.

- Bashinga. Sorceress and Aundae vampire. She is an old acquaintance of Dasrazel’s who has ties to Telvanni, the Mage’s Guild, and several circles of warlocks and witches. She’s very much a self-serving sort, more interested in the acquisition of power than the wellbeing of Morrowind, but she is fiercely protective of the people she deems worthy (and she has a soft spot for Neira she can’t really explain).

Once upon a time, she was a dancer and performer with a traveling circus, and her fall into undeath and wizardry was a happy accident after being taken as cattle by rogue Aundae. She’s got a good set of vocal cords and can move with grace and ease, but she speaks very bitterly a lot of the time and is difficult to get along with.

She’s one of those people who Karsaga immediately took a shine to because they both like to sit around and bitch about people. Dasrazel and Bashinga mostly get along by the time-honored tradition of “two very gay individuals being catty at each other as a sign of affection, though outsiders would think they hate one another.”

- Jai Swift-Fly. Cathay assassin and member of the Morag Tong. She was born and raised in Elsweyr in a more tribal environment, and is an old friend of Vandrith’s (odd, considering they met because she took a grey writ to knock him off and, instead, he knocked her out). She mostly comes into the fold because Karsaga needed somebody to break into the Ministry of Truth to free Mehra Milo, and she came highly recommended (by Vandrith; Vandrith recommended her). 

She’s a married mother of two, is big and strong and very proud of being big and strong, and a crack shot with a bow. She’s also deaf as hell and communicates through a series of homebrew gestures. Her decision to stick around and help Karsaga after completing the job she was hired to do stems primarily from her extreme curiosity. She has no stake in the Nerevarine Prophecy or this group of losers, but by god does she want to see what it looks like when a god dies.

Fun fact: Jai is dead by the events of Skyrim, but two of her descendants remain. Shevah and J’Rakka. They’re a brother-and-sister duo. Shevah is as much of a curious, troublemaking adventurer as her so-many-greats grandmother. J’Rakka is a werewolf who mostly hunts bounties to make a living.

- Dravyn Telvayn (no picture of him, sorry D:). Dunmer assassin and member of the Morag Tong. Former highwayman and current Berne vampire. Husband of Jai and perpetually confused, mainly over the fact he has kids with Jai and... well, every book he’s read has indicated that that should be impossible for a variety of reasons. He lives in the sewers of the Arena canton in Vivec City and is allowed work in the Morag Tong due to his efficacy at eliminating very high risk targets, though he’s basically “on his own” if he ever gets caught. They’re sure as fuck not giving him writs of execution to present to guards when the Tong could end up fucked over if their relationship with a vampire gets out.

He’s mostly in the background and tags along due to his extreme dedication to Jai. He doesn’t get along with hardly anyone but her, though he is the one who coined the term “Council of Accidents” in relation to him, Dasrazel, and Bashinga. He feels a loose kinship with them in that they’re all members of different vampire clans, but all members whose sires want nothing to do with them, rendering them outcasts. Even after the events of Morrowind, he keeps in infrequent contact with the others. 

After Jai’s death, he acts as a weird “ancestral guardian” to his own descendants. As of the time of Skyrim, he spends most of his time trying to keep Shevah from getting killed. He is very tired. She is a lot.

[pianoperson]

We don’t get enough Jonah content. Gimme more soft Jonah.

I like how you think anon. ;))

Huh, soft Jonah... how to function aaaaaaaa

He don’t look it at first, but he squish squoosh on the cheekies. Poke da face cheeks, wowowow super squishy, you will wanna poke again

He gonn pout at you >:<< for squooshing his face but you be like “waahhhhhh your cheeks are so squiiiiiiiiiiiiiishy” and he can’t resist le smile on your face

Because how can he

Speaking of smiley

You and Jonah be having ‘no u’ conversations occasionally

“Your smile is beautiful.” “No, yours is!” “No yours!” “No, yours!”

“You’re cute.” “Am not cute, you’re the cute one.” “No, you’re cute!” “No you!” “No you!”

But those convos end in one way: kiss 😙

Okok he is sO gentle with you when you kiss him??? He’ll cup your face with his cheek, and his kisses are full of passion but they’re never too rough.

He would tuck your hair behind your ear anytime. When you’re eating, when you see each other in the hallway, when you have passionate sessions in the bedroom. He does that because he wants to see your face. Because he thinks... no, he knows you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and he wants to see your face.

Cuddle 👏 session 👏 these tend to happen when a) it has been stressful b) you haven’t seen each other for the whole day, or c) lol idk you just want to. You don’t make any attempt to move, you just lie down beside each other, in each other’s arms, taking in each other’s scent. You can’t help but feel how perfect you fit in Jonah’s embrace, and same for him.

Your hugs don’t end there. He’ll occasionally chase you down just to have a hug, which you’d gladly give because... it’s Jonah and lowkey, you’ve been craving for a hug from him.

Aside from physical affection, Jonah’s gonna show his love for you through gifts. Look, his wallet’s bloated, and he knows this. He’s gonna get you anything. Just make sure you tell him straight that you no like too much gifts, so you don’t have a shit ton of stuff you might not use. But try to accept them haha

HHHHHHHHHHH OK BUT IMAGINE 👏 RUNNING 👏 AROUND 👏 PLAYING 👏 TAG 👏 NONONO LET ME JUST.... you’re probably in a really mischievous mood, because Jonah wants this object you’re holding but before you realize it, you’re like ‘catch me if you can then’ and start running. You slow down at first, thinking he wouldn’t find it amusing, only to squeal and pick up pace because Jonah is actually chasing you. You two continue running around until a) someone tells you to stop (which almost never happens) or b) you get tired and Jonah catches you in his arms, takes the object from your hands, kisses you, and says in a husky whisper, “I caught you.”

Okok I actually really need to let this out.

When. You’re. Sad.

So Jonah’s world is high-class society that reeks of plastic nobles and metallic scents of wealth. Of course, people will judge you, esp if you’re not from high-class society (which you likely aren’t but idk who would be reading this) and this may bring your self-esteem down.

If their judgements don’t bring you down (which is good because they don’t know you and they’re the ones with a problem pfft), then it’s gonna be the prim and proper lifestyle that could. Look, Jonah is proper, graceful, polite, and well-mannered. And in the noble class, that should be expected. But uh here you are, too casual for that sort of thing. And it makes you feel ashamed because Jonah doesn’t deserve someone who probably eats like a pig or burps way too loudly (I know I do 🤭) or is just not the picture of propriety. You want to stand by his side, but you don’t want to ruin his rep and image too.

So you get a little sulky, but you try. You try to be more well-mannered. It’s not that it’s a bad thing to try and be more proper, especially with other people, but it’s the fact that you look a little gloomier, you feel less like yourself as you force yourself to sit up straight and daintily wipe your mouth with a napkin, as you try to seem more graceful, that makes it a problem. And each mistake you think you made, you beat yourself up by saying no that’s not enough for Jonah.

Do you think Jonah won’t notice? Of course he would, you’re the love of his life. Your smile was what started his own fall through the rabbit hole and ended up with him loving you so much. And he would do anything to bring that radiant smile to your face.

No no, he does not like that smile you give him when you say you’re fine, you’re ok. Because that smile does not reach your eyes and your cheeks looked like they want to drop and form the expressions your heart feels.

He will pester you a bit (“are you ok? Are you sure?”/“what’s wrong? What do you mean it’s nothing, is there something wrong?”), but when it’s clear you didn’t want to say, he will give you privacy.

It was one night, when you were alone, that you just broke. Perhaps it’s your thoughts that continued haunting you, perhaps someone said something to you that hit the nail on the coffin. But you couldn’t hold in your insecurities. You started crying because you didn’t feel enough, you felt that you were burdening Jonah. You even thought about leaving him quietly so he can find someone better.

It was also coincidental that Jonah couldn’t fall asleep right away that night because something felt off. He was wondering what was happening to you and decided to check how you were doing.

He caught you sobbing alone from a distance. He never ran so fast in his life as he hurried to have you in his arms and comfort you as the tears fell.

When you calmed down, you confessed to him all the things that brought you down, even telling him that you thought he deserves someone better than you.

“Why didn’t you tell me these things sooner,” he asks.

He’s going to tell you that you are worth so much to him. He’s going to tell you you are so precious to him. And he will tell you that you shouldn’t hide these kinds of things from him through ‘nothings’ and ‘I’m fine’ because he hates knowing that you’re not alright but he doesn’t know how to help you. He can’t be there for you. And it frustrates him because he can’t stand not seeing that honest beautiful smile on your face.

He’s not gonna stop there, though. Jonah is an ‘actions are stronger than words’ kind of guy. He’s not gonna just show his love through a speech. He’s gonna use his body to imprint his love for you.

Oh yes

You know how Jonah’s all like, “I don’t believe in apologizing.”?

He will remind you to not say sorry during times that it’s not necessary.

“I’m sorry if I’m rambling.” “You don’t have to say sorry for rambling. I’m already listening to you, so just go on.”

He doesn’t want you to apologize over things like that because it’s like you’re saying sorry for liking something, for being the kind of person you are, when he loves you for who you are. And he wants you to see that you’re someone who is loved.

Aaaaaaaaaaa Jonah would take you out to stargazing dates!!! And under those stars, you two would have senti moments as you bring up past memories, probably due to the fact he tends to take you to the Lake of Tears, the place where your feelings towards each other changed into something a little more (the place where Jonah calls you by your name for the first time, the place where you first felt your heart race when he held you by the shoulders as he expressed his worries). You would talk until 2am, and 99% of the time, you’ll come back soaking wet because you tackled Jonah into the lake haha

Uhh I probably have more but I can’t recall in the meantime. Well, I’ll end up feeling soft again tonight before I sleep. Hah Jonah, the things you do to my heart.

[telesthisia]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; mun & muse - meme.

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho​ thank you so much!!! <3 TAGGING: @rcguna​ @cadcnce​ either or whatever works for you bear, @panickypeachboy​ @paintmaid​ @emfiliae​ @windmcge​ and you as well!! The person reading this

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. <--- leaving this here because this is super sweet ALSO FAIR WARNING my blog has right click turned off. I’m going to be placing this under readmore but I think you can see it on dashboard view! If not lmk we’ll work something out!!! 

MY MUSE IS:   CANON / OC / AU (Verse dependent) / CANON-DIVERGENT (Interactions & verse dependent) / FANDOMLESS

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES well kinda at least thanks to ssbu before she wasn’t that well known I MEAN PPL KNEW HER BUT SHE DIDN’T HAVE AS MANY FANART AS OTHER ZELDAS SDJBKHJABSD/ NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK because not too many people talk about her and by her I mean ALTTP Zel, people are bonkers over SSBU Zel! 

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO if we’re talking about the canon of ALTTP and OoX series rather than ssbu it’s a hard no, she has enough magic to be considered a sacrifice to break barriers and revive the dead but not enough to fend herself off from evil mages who want to talk over the world / IDK

Are they underrated?  YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO / MAYBE

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO / MAYBE

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?   NOT THAT STRICT HONESTLY, she’s just an OC at this point haha because she has zero substance in her own god damn game ;v; she’s just exposition.txt with dulcina effect playing into view though it is somewhat justified since she is the princess and the only thing that stopped Agahnim from breaking out Ganon.... I MEAN!!! SHE’S NOT AT ALL A DEPRESSED CALM ROMANTIC IN CANON LET’S PUT IT TO YOU THAT WAY SDBKASDJHBDASD. 

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS.   TAKES A DEEP BREATH

Tiny funky elf princess trying her best to rule elf kingdom. HJKA there’s more, I’m lazy but not that lazy. She’s the descendent of essentially a mortal god, more than likely acting as an avatar of sorts to the goddess Hylia, as such she’s gifted with fantastical abilities that’s been passed down her family for generations and she intends to use these powers to protect her kingdom that’s still on the road of recovery, as the sole survivor from Agahnim’s destruction upon Hyrule and thus sole scion she’s left picking up the small fragments from the tragedy that occurred ages ago where the Hero of Time had fallen. But here’s the downside to these powers: she was born with a very weak body and poor health as such she can’t utilize the abilities she has from her bloodline aside from a few powers without affecting her low stamina issues. Namely telepathy, clairvoyance, healing, sealing things away, creating barriers, and connection with the spirit realm. As such, she tends to rely on the wisdom given to her by her naturally bright mind and enhanced by the mythical object known as the Triforce of Wisdom. Surprisingly, she can be cunning despite her soft-hearted nature and is willing to do whatever it takes to protect her kingdom and people she loves, her silent determination more than makes up for the lack of powers she may have. That in mind, she’s often the target of more nefarious plans that means the downfall of her kingdom. She may not have the amazing light magic spells her ancestors did to prevent darkness from taking over but that doesn’t mean her magic isn’t any less potent, she just can’t tap into it. She’s an easy target for enemies that wish to use her sacred powers to revive the dead Ganon or break pass whatever powerful barrier or seal that’s in place. 

Her future is pretty grim as well, considering she has a shorter life span. But it’s fine, things are fine she may have a gloomy outlook on certain things but that doesn’t stop her from living life!! Despite how sour this may all seem Zelda is still that encouraging young woman whose kindness defines her, she’s playfully innocent around friends and enjoys exploring old places of decay that’s rich with history! She tends to bottle up her more negative aspects to not worry others since she’s the pillar of an entire ass nation, she needs to maintain her placid demeanor as a means to calm and soothe others around her. Because the truth of the matter is that the events of ALTTP (before the game where harsh plagues among other things happened before Agahnim arrived to fix everything as well as after the events of the game) and OoX, instances where she’s witnessed death of loved ones, the downfall of her kingdom, and coming across death herself has affected her greatly. She suffers from grief and depression that needs to be addressed but... ;v; 

NGL I’M ABOUT TO CRY 

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?).   HJKA TAKE OUT MY BULLSHIT TAKE ON HER AND YOU’RE LEFT WITH EXPOSITION AND DAMSEL IN DISTRESS!!! She’s not at all interesting if you don’t take into account her roles in the mangas which I somewhat base her personality and thoughts on... she’s just.... nice pretty princess that needs to be rescued. A tale as old as time.... 

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?   GOOD QUESTION!!! BECAUSE I STARTED OUT WITH HILDA BEFORE DECIDING TO GO WITH SKY ZELDA BECAUSE I WANTED TO DO A MORE OUTGOING MUSE and then I opened up a sideblog for this Zelda out of whim. There’s no reason why I choose the most obscure Zelda, I just did it because I thought it’d be fun. I did not expect this much characterization for someone like her ngl. I guess what keeps me going is the fact that she’s a fun character to write for! 

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? HA!!! NOTHING!!! Mental illness is a bitch, I will have my down... weeks. Not days, literal weeks or months depending on how long my episodes last. It sucks, and I try to work around it but there’s not much I can do. That said, inspiration depends on motivation and want to write. As well as focus because god knows I have so little of that. 

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO I TRY BUT UNDERSTAND THERE’S NOT MUCH TO WORK WITH IN CANON YOU EITHER LIKE HER OR DON’T 

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO but I honestly should???

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES where’s the kinda opition, because I personally love her and think she’s interesting enough but I’m still working a lot on her NO

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HA HARD NO

Are you a sensitive person?  YES fun part of having ADD is that you feel emotions more intenstly, I’m naturally a senstive person too so :’)))) / NO

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL?   YES OF COURSE!!!! As someone who wants to grow more in writing any sort of feedback is appreciated! 

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?   If you give me the chance to ramble about this stupid elf I will literally love you so much like I love all sorts of questions anyone may have about her!! Though I feel my rambles don’t really make much sense since I just type whatever pops in the mind and put it down as fast as I can without double-checking well enough. 

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?   Sí! Again, I want to grow more as a writer and rper! So if someone were to come across a headcanon they don’t like I’d like to know why so that I can think more critically about it and fix it so that it better fits Zelda. If someone were to say “I don’t like this” without saying why it really won’t help much aside from letting me know that you don’t like the thing, which is fine and valid but pls let me know why! 

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT?   Eh, fine with it. I honestly don’t mind if someone doesn’t like my characters, any of my characters I play as! Sometimes, certain portrayals aren’t someone’s cup of tea and that’s perfectly fine. I won’t take offense to it, at the end of the day while I’m still working on Zelda I’m happy with how much she’s grown over the years I’ve played her as... which were just two but it feels longer dude!!! 

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?   Again, I wouldn’t care that much lol. It’s just rping, it’s really not that deep. It’s no different from someone not liking a book because they just don’t vibe with the writing style among other reasons. I may be sensitive but I don’t really take a lot of things personally. 

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?   Ye uvub! I’m a literal dumbass behind a keyboard, don’t be afraid to say “hey this wasn’t spelled right” or “hey this doesn’t make much sense mind checking it over really quick”. 

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?   I THINK?! I MEAN HONESTLY I’M SUPER ANXIOUS AND A WORRYWART I JUST DON’T SHOW IT MUCH AAAAAAAA I’d like to think of myself as chill ;v; I try to treat others how I want to be treated and just try to be nice. Idk if I come across as that or not, it’s hard to convey feelings through text sometimes to some. 

[angelicspaceprince]

Bruised

Author:   Ama 

Title: Bruised

Pairing: Doctor Martin Whitly x Reader

Character/s: Doctor Martin Whitly, mentions of Malcolm Whitly/Bright and Ainsley Whitly.

Word Count: 2, 649 words

Warnings: Spanking, some sexual stuff (18+ only please), some BDSM tones, Doctor being a title like Master or Sir

Tags:  @trelaney  

Prompt: You’d promised Doctor Whitly that you’d be good but you can’t help but bend the rules. The Doctor has had enough, and its time to be punished.

Notes: So I’m going to try and do Kinktober this year but I’m already late so they are all gonna be drabbles and randomised bc lol love it. See the full list of what to expect and what pairings, plus what kinks, here plus my two (hopefully to be released on Halloween) specials on the same page.

Also I know Martin is a serial killer, I know he’s an asshole but he’s a charming asshole that makes me want to sit on his face. So no, I hold no shame in this.

  Buy Me a Coffee 

Bruised

Being married to Martin was a chore some days. Being a step-mother to his two beautiful children that he had to his last wife after she mysteriously died was a challenge. But you loved every single minute.

Sure, stepping into the role of mother to two young ones when the youngest was only 12 weeks old wasn’t ideal but you loved Martin and Martin loved you, any challenge could be over come because surely you could work it out together.

The thing that annoyed you the most that, even after two years of being married to the love of your life, was the rules that he had in place that were iron tight and never bending (which was half the fun of having rules in the first place, you thought). You and the children weren’t allowed in his hobby room, for example. If you wanted his attention, you went to the door and called for him and he came to you. Family time is family time, was another. No distractions from your work or his allowed. That he had to be involved with every decision made regarding the children. They were, after all, his children and you were still, technically, the newcomer. Martin was very big on co-parenting so he always made sure your thoughts, opinions and needs were met but also ensured that his were too. The one that was the hardest one to abide by, however, was his rules about contacting him at work. Never during surgery, never during a consultation and never unless it was an emergency.

You understood the rules. You understood why they were there. And sure, the kinky stuff that happened when you broke the rules was fun. But it was also frustrating. You got frustrated when you called during a surgery because Ainsley had a fever and wouldn’t stop crying. You weren’t sure what to do and he hung up on you to deal with it yourself, followed by a screaming match that evening because you broke one of his precious rules because you panicked and didn’t know what to do. But after that, you spoke and came up with a system, so you knew when was appropriate to call him and when wasn’t. After all, you aren’t medically trained and had never dealt with a sick child before. He granted you a little slack.

So, today, when Malcolm was, for the twelfth time that morning, puking his guts up in the toilet, you called Martin to let him know Malcolm was going to have the day off of school. When the nurse picked up and informed you that you just missed him and he’d gone into the surgery that he had been prepping for for weeks now due to the intensity of the procedure, and she asked if you wanted to speak to him you swore under your breath before reassuring her. No. It’s fine. In fact, don’t even tell him I called.

Malcolm can have a sick day, Martin would never know.

Malcolm stopped vomiting around lunch time, and was all but better by dinner. Martin still hadn’t returned and you got a call from the night nurse to tell you that he was probably not going to make it home before midnight. Great. You got the kids ready for bed and slipped into bed shortly after, promising to tell Martin in the morning what happened with Malcolm. You woke up slightly after feeling Martin kiss you good night as he also slipped into bed after a long day, quickly noting that it was closer to 3am than midnight. You asked him quietly as he holds you close to him how it all went and the grumble that came with it suggests that it wasn’t a success. You move to grab his hand and rub your thumb against his arm in comfort as you both drift back off to sleep.

Martin insisted on taking Malcolm to school the next morning, having barely had three hours sleep but needing to be with his son for that thirty-minute trip to school before heading to work. You got Ainsley to preschool before heading off to your work for the day, coming home after picking up the kids, helping Malcolm with his homework as you cooked dinner and had family time as per Martin’s request. All was quiet and easy, just a regular day. Content, you were convinced you managed to get away with bending Martin’s rule slightly. Then the kids were in bed. And it was like the atmosphere had changed.

Walking up to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel something akinned to dread filling the pit of your stomach. When you entered your shared room, Martin was there removing his cuff links and humming to yourself. Just anxiety, you tell yourself. Everything is fine.

You go about your usual nightly routine silently, both in your own thoughts. Martin is the one to break the silence.

“You’ll never guess what Malcolm’s teacher told me today.” You hum in acknowledgement, not completely listening as you come out from the bathroom and towards the bed. “She said that it was great to see Malcolm feeling so much better after having to stay home yesterday.”

Your heart stops. Shit. You knew you forgot to tell him something this morning. The look on his face is positively feral as you try to get your words together.

“I’m so sorry Martin, I called but you were in surgery, and I-” Your words come tumbling out in a large mess as you try to explain

“Oh no love. I don’t think you deserve to call me that tonight.” His voice is low, dark, and you know instantly, you’re going to be punished. And not in a good way.

You swallow and try again as he slowly makes his way over to you, eyes never leaving you. “Sorry, Doctor Whitly. I called to explain the situation, but you had already started surgery. I didn’t think you wanted to be interrupted, so I called Malcolm in sick. I was going to tell you this morning but with the rush and you didn’t get in until 3 I thought perhaps, I could just let it slide for now, tell you maybe tomorrow when things were calmer. He was really very sick.” You finished before adding a smaller apology at the end of your ramble which causes him to send you a small, firm smile as he rubs the sides of both your upper arms in a comforting manner.

“I know you are, love.” His voice seems to calm you for a second. “Unfortunately, you still need to be punished.”

You aren’t sure if you’re excited or nervous as he moves to sit at the edge of the bed and pats his lap expectedly. “Mar-” The look on his face makes you change your tactic. “Doctor Whitly, is this really necessary?” His look darkens, clearly about to give you your first warning. You tried, with very little success, to drape yourself across his lap with some dignity. He moves your hips until your hips rest tilted up towards him in his lap as the rest of your body drapes across and dangles either side of him.

“You’ve been so disobedient; do you really think you could get away without some form of punishment?” He chides you as he harshly yanks down your shorts and panties, leaving your ass bare. “Do you remember what I expect of you?”

You nod and yelp as you get a warning tap to your rear, not hard enough to sting but enough to prompt you to verbalise. “Count, thank, apologise.” You recite. “Be truthful with colour checks, green is good, yellow is ok, red is stop. Safe word is thoracic.” He rubs your thigh as praise as you go through your script before tapping at them to get you to spread them slightly for better balance.

“Let’s see, you called me during a very important, career changing surgery, only to hang up and waste the nurse’s time. You made an important parenting decision for my son without consulting me first. You then forgot to tell me the following day and I had to find out from Malcolm’s teacher. You have refused to address me properly twice just this evening. Five strikes for each count I believe is fair, don’t you dearest?” You knew that it was a trick question, if Martin thought the punishment was fair, that’s the punishment you’re going to get. Nonetheless, he always asks if you agreed.

“Yes, Doctor Whitly.” You state quietly as you prepare for the punishment to begin.

You can hear your husband hum happily at your words before lifting his hand, ready for the first strike. “Don’t forget, Y/N, if you miss one, we start again.”

You squeak when the first smack hits your left cheek, the sting instant and the heat follows soon after. Your face seems to heat up in embarrassment as you breathe and prepare for the second, not realising what you had forgotten until Martin clears his throat. Quickly, you fix your mistake. “One. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” 

Its rushed, but the words are all there. He is tempted to have you start again and add another five to the list. You seem to be shaking as you wait for him to either smack you again or tell you to start again. “I will forgive your forgetfulness this one time, pet.” He states somewhat kindly before his hand makes contact with your right cheek, again the sting appearing before the heat.

“Two. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

Martin continues with your punishment, stopping for long enough for you to state the number you were up to, thank him for your punishment and apologise for your transgressions. The power he got from you calling him by his medical title is something he’s never been able to find elsewhere, and he is enjoying every moment. He made sure never to hit the same place twice and watches as your flesh seems to ripple against his hand in an appealing manner. Your skin is slowly turning redder by his hand as he moves down to mark up your thighs to match your now cherry red ass. Such a nice colour, his favourite colour on you.

The first smack to your thigh surprises you. You hold back a swear as you continue you’re your count. “Nine. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.”

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You grunt at the next strike to your left upper thigh, you are sure this one was harder than the others. “Ten. Thank you, Doctor Whitly. Sorry, Doctor Whitly.” There seems to be a pause as you shift slightly in his lap.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you? This is supposed to be your punishment, pet.” His bemused voice fills the room as your already red face flushes further.

You had been trying to ignore the heat in your belly that had been growing with each passing strike and how you were slowly becoming wetter as time went on. “I’m sorry, Doctor Whitly, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, but you did.” His palm lands flat against your ass again as he moves to see how wet your cunt is as you continue with your count. “You really are a bad girl, ignoring my rules, enjoying your punishment. I’m convinced you break my rules so you can be back in this position.” You bite back a moan as a finger is pushed inside of you and just held there. You don’t dare buck up against him, or grind or beg for more. This was a test. You just knew it.

Again, he chuckles as he removes his finger and smacks your thighs twice each side in quick concession. You hurry to catch up with your mantra as he sucks your juices off his finger. “Good girl.” He rewards, moving to soothe the angry red skin. “Only ten more to go, can you handle it?” You nod, looking straight at the door as you wait for the rest of your punishment.

The final ten strikes come quickly after you’ve counted, thanked and apologised Martin. You are sure you are going to have bruises and there isn’t a part of your thighs and ass that isn’t red in some way. Martin is quick to rub every red area with his hand as he soothes you, praising you for doing so well, asking if you wanted ointment to help with the bruising and pain. You hum, which he takes as a yes because soon he’s rubbing something into your skin and your shorts and panties are pulled up and over your bum again, keeping you decent. You had two little ones in your house, pyjamas weren’t optional anymore.

He pulls you up and into his lap with your knees either side his waist as he holds you and rubs your back, making sure you’re ok as he hums you small tunes and makes sure you are ok.

“Did you want me to help with that?” He asks, indicating to the wet patch clearly growing on your panties. You were absolutely dripping but the idea of anything touching you wasn’t something you were keen on right now. You shake your head.

“Just hold me?” Martin smiles at your request.

“Oh, I think I can do that. Let’s get on the bed properly love.” He brings you up to the top of the bed and towards the centre so the two of you can rest together properly as he continues to take care of you, making sure you are safe in your own mind and not in need of anything. “Tea?”

“No, I don’t know what blend you use but it always makes me super sleepy.” You complain as you yawn loudly. “And I’m sleepy enough as is. Thank you, though.” He just looks down at you with a smile as you snuggle closer to him and bring the blankets over you, you still straddling him as he holds you close. “I was going to tell you. I didn’t mean to keep it secret, I just didn’t want to interrupt your surgery and it wasn’t a big deal. Just a tummy bug, really.”

“I still would have liked to have known what was going on. He’s our son, I just want to be involved with decisions made.” He explains gently, seemingly calmer now you were talking properly again.

“I know. I just didn’t know what to do because I can’t make decisions without talking to you first, and I can’t call you during surgery. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.” You explain carefully. “I do love you, and I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. I’ll work on that. But there has to be a way that you feel like I am doing the best for your – our – kids whilst taking your thoughts and concerns into consideration. I wouldn’t of kept Malcolm home if it was just a cold. He was throwing up and, although he didn’t have a fever, there was no way he was going to be able to pay attention in class.” Martin hums as you explain the situation. “What if, if something like that happens again, I call your office and leave a message? That way you’ll know before you get home and I won’t interrupt your work?”

Martin thinks over this for a second before nodding. “Seems like a good compromise.” You smile happily. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I know you do.” You yawn once more before settling on his chest.

“You’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yup. Just comfy. And sleepy.”

He laughs quietly as you quickly fall into a slumber in his arms, him following your example merely seconds later, both of you holding each other in your arms.

[mxdanni]

On Introductions. Ethan x MC

Choices: Open Heart. Ethan Ramsey x MC

Summary: A new patient brought in by the paramedics is to shatter both MC and Dr Ethan Ramsey. For different reasons.

Author’s Note: Pre- On Accidents. Also post-On Waking Up. Go see my other fics 😉

📌 My MC’s name is Lin Lee

Dr Ethan Ramsey watched her pace across the hall near the patient’s room. Now and then, she would stop and crane her neck to glance inside. She took a shift off because of just who arrived at the hospital with the paramedics but two hours ago.

And now Rookie, his Rookie could think of nothing else but that man.

Well, apparently, she wasn’t so his after all.

They never talked about her family before, Ethan admitted that. Begrudgingly, gritting his teeth and scowling as he kept on watching her from the corner. Hidden from her sight, yet a few residents have already wondered at him loitering. He didn’t care, and no one was bold enough to ask when greeted by his icy glare.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and took a step back. He needed to leave, let her be, he told himself.

Also, he hated himself for assuming… things? Admitting his feelings, letting Naveen talk him into noticing those at all. Then listening to his mentor once again, that perhaps there was something between Ethan and Rookie, and allowing himself hope…

Ethan just assumed it was okay for him to hug her when nobody was looking. It gave him peace and comfort, and also she radiated that warmth he couldn’t get enough of. They cared for Naveen together, in fact, the older man took a liking to Rookie so much he even let her convince himself to be admitted as a regular patient. As his assigned doctors, Naveen insisted on that in front of Harper, Ethan and Lin grew even closer. Ethan never questioned his chances.

Before.

Then the paramedics brought in a Mr Lee, a young man of twenty-nine. And Rookie lost it.

Ethan noticed some commotion down the corridor, then saw his Rookie slowly lower herself to the floor with Dr Trinh hovering over. He dashed to them before he could even think.

His eyes widened. There was a pang through his heart and a bitter taste at the back of his throat. Ethan saw the patient’s name, then glanced back at Lin – the same surname, and by her lost look he was, in fact, who Ethan thought the man was. Damn, he was the one to approve her residency application, how could the fact she was married even escape him?! Or was it a new development? After all, they did never talk about her family before.

A few seconds, and Ethan forced himself to snap out of it. Two doctors panicking (Dr Trinh included) were already enough for the day. He snatched the files and strode to the operating theatre where the man was being taken.

“He’ll be fine,” Ethan snapped and jerked his head away so as not to see her face. “I promise,” he added a little softer.

Nobody questioned when he took over the operation. It wasn’t all that serious. Several stitches and fixes, and the man was as good as new.

Ethan lingered by the doors and looked through the patient’s records. James Wei Lee. 29, married. Car accident. The damage done he stitched himself.

Ethan scowled and accidentally scared off some nurse. He kept telling himself he had to do it for her. Because Rookie cared so deeply for the man, she would be shattered if anything went wrong. It was a long time since Ethan focused on making every move absolutely perfect. Not great as with other patients but truly flawless.

Her panicked gaze was the first thing Ethan bumped into when leaving the operating theatre.  

“He is alright. All in order,” he told her. And stepped back.

Ethan cut himself off. He almost touched her. Stopped his own hands when his fingers were inches above her shoulders. Lin was shivering, even shaking slightly, he wanted nothing else but to hug her, pull her closer to him, press her into his body and tell her that everything would be fine. That he got her and would never let go. Burry his face into her hair, mess the already titled hair bun, kiss every dry tear off her cheeks…

“Let him rest for the hour,” he told Lin instead and looked away. The usual Rookie didn’t roll off his tongue. He became too addicted to adding “my” Rookie, even if only inside his head.

Ethan scowled, turned on his heels and was about to stride off. It was not his place to be.

“…!”

He was cut short by a shriek. Chinese, he guessed and looked back. His heart fell: his Rookie was staring at him. Her eyes open wide, the fear he saw in those before was nothing compared to her frozen expression.

“Lin!” Ethan caught only her name. Across the hall, a young woman rushed towards them waving her arms around. Her face was flashed, breath ragged and clothes a total mess, the buttons were mismatched.

And she pounced on his Rookie, grabbed her by the white doctor’s coat and went to ramble on in Chinese.

Lin tried to calm her down, she did. Grasped her wrists, the woman wrenched them free, then tried to interrupt – the woman hushed her and ranted on. She was sobbing loudly, and Ethan doubted anything she was saying made sense.

And then he heard Rookie say,

“Dr Ramsey did the operation. He says James is fine.”

The woman fell silent. Breathed in sharply. Looked at Rookie, then followed to where she was pointing. Directly at him.

“Thank you!” exclaimed the woman and rushed at him.

Ethan stepped out of her way yet she stopped right in front and bowed. Her every move hectic and erratic, she bent too low and started rambling. This time in English, but Ethan could hardly make her words out. She asked after the patient, thanked him, then bowed a few more times, something about where he was and else.

“Dr Ramsey said we can see brother in an hour,” said Rookie calmly.

Ethan flinched. He was used to her addressing him like that in public yet this time it left a cut. She did call him Ethan, just Ethan for the past months they were either alone or with Naveen.

Wait, brother? Did she just say…

“Thank you!” exclaimed the woman once more and hurried to the patient’s room at which Rookie pointed.

And they were left alone. Just him and, apparently, still his-to-be Rookie. Unless he just messed it up by his scowl but a minute ago.

“… Rookie?”

“Thank you for my brother, Dr Ramsey.”

That broke him. He scooped her in his arms, rested his chin at the top of her head and breathed out sharply. His fingers dug into her shoulders, a little too painful he knew it. Couldn’t help it.

“Dr Ramsey…”

She fidgeted, snaked her hand in between them and gently pushed. He didn’t let go, only loosened his grip and leaned to her face. Traced her temple, and then his fingertips found her chin.

“Lin, please,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She looked utterly confused now.

“I…” Ethan traced off but forced himself to continue. She needed to know. “I overreacted. Seeing you like that, seeing you care that much for somebody, well, else.”

Ethan pushed her into his body, pressed her head to her chest and wrapped his arms around so that she couldn’t look up. He would say it, yet it didn’t mean he would let her see his face at that moment.

“It’s selfish really. But that very selfish part of me wants you to care like that only for him. Only for me.”

She tensed. Ethan felt her freeze in his arms, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Excuse me, I overthought it,” he snapped and pushed her away.

Planned to at least, he gently took her by the shoulders and pushed. She stepped back, his fingers wouldn’t let go though.

“Ethan…”

“Thought,” he scowled at himself and snatched his hands from her shoulders. “Hoped there was something. In between us, and then…”

She cut him off. Ethan felt his heart stop for the second time that day. This time for the better.

Lin grabbed him by his lapels, pulled closer and stood up on tiptoes. Rookie kissed him. His Rookie kissed him.

They broke apart too soon for his liking. But Rookie already snaked her arms around him and rested her cheek on his chest. It felt so warm, her frame so fit right in his arms.

“Now, that’s my Rookie…” he mumbled into her hair.

She giggled quietly.

“Well, if you would. I mean…”

“Yours, Ethan,” she readily agreed. “Yours.”

Tag list: lol, i’m tagging random people who liked my previous posts. You brought it upon yourselves, loves 🤪❤️😘 And I love you all

@perriewinklenerdie @itspeonypie @confessionsofabrokegirl @thatcrimsonartist@hopelessromantic1352 @omg-its-vixen @nxstalgicnxbxdy @abbyarchie @ninuca30 @valiantlychaoticbarbarian @sharrybh20 @foulponypizzabear@lorosette @redt1ger @ knndyj @wenddeg @minion-on-board @queenof1000days @momentarilyhere @msjpuddleduck @bieberismysoulmate @octobereighth @fanfictionrecommendations-com @gettingonmykneesfordamiennazario @topsyturvy-dream @ethanplaysfavorites @alj4890 @emceesynonymroll @classychoicesaworld @redt1ger @countrymusicandncis-blog @tmnts-world @flyawayboo @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @regina-and-happiness  @lammaducks @drink-of-paradise @jacobsmemesibling @sophia-snw @cordoniaqueensworld @lilyofchoices @timmagicktoad @usuallyamazinglyaverage @istanallli @classylady1234 @eastcoast-anchor @simsvetements @wan-wan-kenobi @fangirling12566 @strangepeanutstudentcop @raines-harrington-ramsey-hunt @laylaylom313 @goldenjellyfish12

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Lost in Translation - Ch 7

Title: Lost in Translation

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: Mckirk

Rating: Lemon

Tags: minor character death, hurt, little bit of self destruction, stranded, possible smut down the line, FLUFF OH THE FLUFF!!

Summary:

    “Attention citizens. This is the crew of the Enterprise asking for your aid. On Stardate 2264.78 a shuttle manned by our captain and fourteen cadets was ambushed by an unknown source and chased out of sight of our ship and into open space. Those cadets as well as our captain, James Tiberius Kirk, are still missing. We are asking anyone with any information on their whereabouts, or regarding the attack, to please contact the Enterprise immediately. Our family would appreciate any assistance you can give.” 

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: wanted to give a huge shout out to my girl Katie, AKA @goingknowherewastaken for being a huge inspiration for this fic as well as for being a huge help (especially when it comes to putting up with my frantic ramblings lol) you're awesome boo <3

A/N: So this chapter is a bit longer, but I think you’ll find it well worth it! *wink*

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Chapter 7

    Len found himself in the same spot he had been pacing nearly everyday for the last two and a half weeks, and Scotty was sure that if he didn’t stop the doctor would ware a hole in the floor of the transporter room. Scotty watched from his chair as the doctor did circle after circle, eyes wandering between the transporter padd and the screen in front of him before he finally spoke, “Doctor McCoy?” Len stopped for a brief moment to look to Scotty, “Might it be better if you waited back in the medbay, or your chambers? I can call ya when they get back.”

    Len shook his head and continued his pacing, “Spock said they wouldn’t be more then a day, it’s been two, what the hell’s taking so long?! Has anyone had any communication with them at all?!”

    “Sorry, Leonard,” Scotty shook his head, “I tried calling them yesterday and nothin’. I'm sure they’ll be back any minute now, so why don’t you head down to your office and I’ll call ya, you need rest doctor. You look a mess.”

    “I am a mess!” he shouted, though he hadn’t intended to yell at Scotty. But after nearly three weeks now of built up anger and impatience he couldn’t help it. “We’re going on three weeks Jim's been missing and no one seems to know a damn thing about where he went! I can’t take much more disappointment, I just want to know where he is-”

    As it all came boiling over Len felt the all too familiar clench in his chest, the rush of air being forced out of his lungs as if he had been punched. He leaned against the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, wrapping both arms around himself as he tried hard to catch his breath.

    “Right, hod on, doctor!” Scotty was at his side in seconds, sitting beside him, and instructing Len to match his breathing to his own, “I know it’s hard, but we’ll find him, Len, we will. You’ve just got to have a wee bit of hope. Jim's a smart man, I'm sure where ever he is he's just fine and waiting for his doctor to come rescue him.”

    Len looked up at Scotty, his breathing slowly coming back to normal, but before he could say anything the screen lit up and Spock's voice filled the transporter room, “Spock to Enterprise.”

    Scotty jumped up from his spot beside Len and landed himself in the chair, “Scott to Spock, you ready?”

    “Lock on and beam us up.”

    “Aye, one moment.”

    Len watched from his place on the ground as the padd lit up. He counted the figures as they came in and it didn’t look like they had any more people then they beamed down with.

    As they walked off the padd Spock eyed Len and shook his head. All Len could do to avoid another panic attack was pull his knees to his chest and burry his face in his arms. But he could still hear Spock and Nyota as they spoke to Scotty off to the side.

    “What took so long?”

    “When we entered the planet’s city centre there was someone there who thought they had information for us,” Nyota sighed, then continued, “but it was a dead end. It was a completely unrelated incident.”

    “I see,” Scotty ran a hand over his face and crossed his arms. His eyes wandered over to Len still huddled against the wall. He turned back to Nyota and nodded his head towards Len and whispered, “I don’t know what to do wee him. While yous are gone he comes in here and damn near wears a hole in the floor, and this time he went into a fit. Thought he was gunnae stop breathin’. He cannae take much more o’this, none of us can really.”

    “I know,” Nyota turned towards the still unmoving Len and placed a hand on Scotty’s shoulder, “I’ll get him back to his room.”

    “And I shall make way to the bridge. Perhaps some information came in while we were off ship.”

    Spock and Scotty both left the transporter room leaving only Nyota and Len. She slowly walked over to him and knelt down in front of him. She placed her hand on his arm and rubbed her thumb back and forth a moment before she placed her other hand on his shoulder and helped him off the ground. “Come on, Leonard, let’s get you to your room.”

    Without a word Len got up and allowed her to lead him through the halls.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Before Len even knew it he was standing in front of his door.

    “Ok, in you go, Leonard,” Nyota’s soothing voice came from behind him, “just go to bed and hopefully we’ll have good news tomorrow. If anything happens you know I’ll call you.”

    He nodded mindlessly as he opened the door, then turned back to Nyota, “He's… he’s not coming back.”

    “Don’t say that, Leonard.”

    “I have to face this at some point, Nyota, I can’t…” he stopped to take a calming breath, “I can’t keep hoping that he's going to walk off the transporter padd and come running into my arms. He's been missing for nearly three weeks and we have no information, not a damn thing. And there’s no way his shuttle travelled this far away from the original attack point. He's gone.”

    Len was near tears now and Nyota could see it. She could see the quick rise and fall of his chest and knew he was close to another attack. Running soothing hands down his arms she took a step closer, “There’s always hope.”

    “Yeah,” he scoffed, “people keep telling me that but I'm damn near out of hope at this point. Reality is what we need to face now.”

    “And the reality is that Jim is the best man that Starfleet has, and if anyone could have survived this attack and found somewhere to hold down until rescue, it’s Jim.” She gives his arms a squeeze and says with confidence, “I know it looks bleak but we’ll find him, even this far out. We’ve mapped out a few more planets they could have made it to, and we will find him on one of them, I know it. And he will walk off that padd and he will come running into your arms, I promise.”

    He shakes his head, “You can’t promise me that, no one can.”

    “Leonard, you know Jim better then anyone else. Deep down do you really think he's gone?”

    “I… I don’t want to.” He starts and she stares him down, knowing that was a half assed answer at best, “No, I don’t think he's dead, but I'm so drained, Ny. Every time you head down to a planet I get my hopes up and every time I'm disappointed. I can’t take much more of that. I just… I need Jim.”

    “I know,” she rubs his arm again, “we all do. But he is out there and we will find him, alive. And when we do if you two don’t get over this ridiculous tension, or shyness, or whatever it is between you, and finally admit your feelings for each other after all this, so help me god, Leonard, I will do it myself.”

    He chuckled, but he knew she was right. If… when they got Jim back he was laying it all out on the table. He wasn’t going to let another chance slip away from him, and he certainly wasn’t going to risk losing Jim again without telling him everything.

    Nyota gave him a small smile then turned him towards the door, “Get some rest, Leonard, I’ll see you in the morning.”

    He nodded and walked inside without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    After the door closed behind him Len stood there for a few minutes just staring at the floor. Nyota was right, Jim was still out there somewhere and they would find him, but the wait was killing Len slowly, agonizingly.

    Without even thinking about what he was doing he wandered over to the liquor cabinet in his sitting area, and found himself with a bottle of bourbon in his hand. He popped the lid off and was just about to put the bottle to his mouth when he remembered what had happened the last time. He remembered Nyota's words to him the next morning in medbay. When they found Jim, he would need him to be the best he could be, sober and ready to give Jim whatever he needs.

    Without taking a sip he dropped the bottle to his side and walked over to the sink. No hesitation, he poured the entire bottle down the drain and placed the empty bottle on the counter, and with a new found determination he marched over to the cabinet and started removing bottles by the armful. One by one he dumped all of it down the sink, emptying the cabinet completely, and with a sigh he left the kitchen and walked straight to his room.

    He didn’t even bother changing, just sat on the bed and ran both hands down his face. When he looked up he was staring at the only picture he had in his room, one single frame perched in a place of pride on his nightstand. Len had purposefully placed it there when they were assigned to the Enterprise so he could look at it every night before bed, and it would be the first thing he saw when he woke every morning. It’s his favourite picture in the world, a memory of happier times. It’s a picture from when he and Jim had visited his Gran, back when they were still in the academy.

    His Gran had called him near the end of their second year. She would call every week to hear about Len's school, about his cute and funny room mate Jim, and sometimes Jim would scoot him out of the chair and talk to his Gran for hours. But this time she had called from the hospital. Len’s Gran had been having more and more health problems lately but she insisted that it was nothing, just a small bout of pneumonia, she had said.

    He thought back to their conversation that day, Len worried and Gran brushing it off like she always did, insisting she was perfectly fine…

    “I am fine, Lenny, don’t you go worrying about me.”

    Len sighed and shook his head, “I always worry about you, Gran. You're calling me from your hospital bed, how am I not supposed to worry!?”

    “You just focus on those exams you have coming up and make your Gran proud,” She pointed at the screen, “no fussin’ over me.”

    “Gran,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “if I talk to your nurse, Karen, is she going to tell me I have to come down there?”

    “You know if it was serious Karen would have called you herself,” and she was right, he knew it, “but speaking of, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve gotten a visit from my favourite grandson.”

    He chuckled, “I'm you're only grandson.”

    “Still my favourite,” she smiled, “now, about that visit…?”

    Len turned away from the computer for a moment. He wanted to visit his Gran, he really did, but there was just something in him that couldn’t allow him to leave Jim.

    As if she could read his mind she asked, “Is it Jim?”

    Turning back he nodded, “Yeah, Gran. I don’t know what it is exactly but… I just can’t leave him.”

    The door opened then and Len turned to see Jim walking through the small hallway, toeing off his boots as he did. He waved to Len with a huge smile on his face and walked towards him shouting, “Guess who’s last lecture was cancelled and now has the whole night off!”

    Len laughed at him dancing through the living room and towards him, “I'm guessing the horribly dancing cadet in my living room.”

    “You love my horrible dancing,” he continued to sway his hips towards Len who leaned back in the computer chair with a smirk. When he got almost close enough to sit in Len's lap he saw the computer screen out of the corner of his eye, “Is that Gran!?”

    “It sure is, Jimmy my boy!” she smiled at him, “How are you doin? Good grades I hope.”

    “Nothing but A’s, Gran,” she gave a little fist pump and Jim sat in Len's lap to better see her, looking around her, “are you in the hospital?! What happened?!”

    “See, I'm not the only one that worries about you, Gran,” Len smirked from over Jim's shoulder, leaning his head there and wrapping his arms around the fidgeting body in his lap.

    “Well neither of you should, I'm fine,” both boys gave her a knowing eye roll, “but enough of that. Jimmy, I was just trying to talk Lenny into coming out to visit me the next time y’all have some time off school. What would you say to coming along?”

    Jim's eyes went wide, “You… you want me to come visit you in Georgia?”

    “If you want to,” she smirked then said, “and it would seem that my little Lenny has an awful soft spot for ya, doesn’t want to leave without ya.”

    Jim turned his head to try and hide the blush and Len couldn’t even believe his Gran. “I don’t want to impose on you guys. You should have your family time.”

    “Nonsense,” she waved him off, “you wouldn’t be imposing, no such thing. I want you here and so does Lenny. You are family Jimmy, you belong here, and you're more then welcome to come along if you want to. But I do hope you say yes.”

    Jim's smile brightened tenfold as he answered enthusiastically, “In that case I would love to come! I’ve never been to Georgia.”

    “Well now, that’s a damn shame son,” she pointed to Len behind Jim, “while you're out here you better show him all the ropes, you hear, full Georgia experience, and I’ll make you all my famous dishes.”

    Len shifted his head again to try and get a word in over Jim's shoulder, “We’ll have some time off after exams, Gran, so if you're home by then we’ll head out once exams are over. We’ll have two weeks off before we have to be back.”

    “That sounds great boys, I’ll see y’all then!”

    “Bye Gran, feel better,” both Len and Jim waved to her as she blew a kiss and ended the call…

    Thinking back on the memory Len laughed. After that call with Gran, Jim spoke of nothing else for the next three weeks leading up to exams. It was the most excited he had ever seen the kid and he thought it was adorable.

    Len ran his fingers over the picture in his hands. Gran had taken that picture on their first night in Georgia. The minute their last exam was over Jim was ready and waiting for Len inside their room, bags packed, and shoes on waiting by the door. They hopped on a shuttle and arrived at his Gran’s house late afternoon. When the sun went down Len had dragged Jim outside and started a fire, then the two of them laid in the grass and spent hours looking up at the stars together, clear as day in the Georgia sky.

    It was night one of their two week stay in Georgia, and Gran must have snuck outside to snap this picture. Len was lying on the ground, one arm behind his head and the other around Jim. Jim was using half of Len's chest and his arm as a pillow, wrapped in Len's oversized high school football jacket, smiling and pointing towards the sky. The glow from the fire lit up their faces and Len couldn’t help but think Gran had captured the perfect moment. Jim in all his wonder filled glory, and Len staring at him like he hung the moon and stars.

    That trip back home was the best two weeks of Len's life. Two weeks spent with Jim, two weeks of no class and no work, two weeks of just being together. And now that he thinks back on it, two weeks completely wasted. He was given so many opportunities in Georgia to tell Jim how he really felt, and out of fear he let them all pass him by. Now, he couldn’t help but think that maybe if he had told Jim back then, just grew a pair and told Jim how he felt, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe Jim wouldn’t have been so stubborn and let him on that shuttle, instead of heading off alone with fourteen fresh cadets. Then at least, they would still be together now, rather then Jim being god knows where, and Len laying in bed clutching desperately to precious memories.

    He lay back in his bed clutching the picture tightly to his chest thinking back on all the chances he had back then. So many opportunities wasted, and he swore then and there, that if someone would give him the chance again he wouldn’t pass it up this time. Jim would know, as he should have known back then in Georgia.

~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Turkey dinner, peach pie for dessert, and the best damn grandma anyone could ask for?! Bones, if you would have told me how amazing Georgia was, we would have come sooner.”

    Len just chuckled at Jim sitting on the couch across form him. In the mere two days they had been at his Gran’s farm in Georgia, Jim had certainly made himself at home. Not that Len or anyone else was complaining. His Gran loved Jim. Yeah, she had spoken to Jim over video calls before, and she always loved chatting with him, but seeing the two actually interact with each other was priceless. Not to mention Len was loving relaxed and carefree Jim Kirk. Usually the kid was running back and forth across campus morning, noon, and night. Taking on extra classes, joining extra curricular’s, and Len was lucky if he could pin the kid down for more then fifteen minutes before he was either running off to his next class, or promptly passing out on the nearest flat surface in their room. Social life be damned, apparently.

    But in good old Georgia, with no classes or crazy course loads, no late night medbay shifts or 2am emergency surgery calls, he was actually able to spend proper time with Jim and they were both finally able to breathe. And he noticed that Jim was taking full advantage of the fact that the next two weeks were completely wide open and stress free. No class, no obligations, no work, just him and Len and sweet little Gran.

    “Yeah, well don’t get used to it, kid. When we get back to the academy don’t expect me to dote on your every whim like Gran.” Len then shot a look at his Gran across the room. She was sitting in her rocking chair, smiling at the two of them. “Which you shouldn’t do, Gran, by the way. He's like an animal, if you keep feeding him he’ll never leave.”

    Jim threw one of the couch pillows across the room at Len, hitting him in the side of the face. Len launched the pillow right back, Gran laughing along with the two of them.

    “Nonsense,” she laughed, “I'm just glad to have two wonderful boys in the house to spend my time with. And you, my beautiful grandson, I haven’t seen you smile like this in a very long time.”

    She reached over and took his chin in her hand, giving his face a squeeze and a little shake. When she let go he smiled and his eyes trailed across the room to Jim, and when their eyes made contact his smile beamed even brighter than before.

    Gran watched the two of them, had been now for the last two days, and she was no dense woman. She had raised Leonard from the time he was knee high to a grasshopper. She knew the life he had lead up until now. She knew of the hardships he had faced from such a young age. And she knew that the reason why Len's attitude and entire outlook on life had done a complete u-turn, was because of the very handsome blond haired boy currently sitting on her living room couch.

   The two never took their eyes off of each other, just stared between themselves like no one else was there. But as said before, she knew her grandson and she knew him well, which meant that she knew if she didn’t do something about the tension between them, her head strong grandson certainly wouldn’t. And in her opinion it had already gone on for two years too long.

    A quick turn of her head brought her attention to the old record player in the corner of the room. A rare collectable Leonard had bought her for her birthday one year, along with a small box of vinyl’s to go with it. Standing, she motioned to the two boys, pulling them from each others eyes and said, “Move this table for me, would you boys?” as she sauntered over to the record player and began fiddling with it.

    The two got up without question and shoved the table out of the way against the back wall, leaving the room now wide open.

    “What are we doing, Gran?” Jim quirked a brow and Len returned to his seat.

    “We, dear boy,” she turned as she got the player working and an old song played through the room, “are going to teach you how to do the quick step.”

    “Alright!” Len chuckled at Jim’s enthusiasm, watching from his seat on the couch with a smile as his Gran began leading Jim around the living room.

    He remembered when he was younger, on the good days when it was just him and his Gran at home, and she would put on music and lift him onto her toes. She would swing him around the living room just like she was right now with Jim, and it was one of the very rare times she was able to pull a smile from Len. Of course, after many years since then and a significant dip in her health, she couldn’t move as fast as she used to but she was still as graceful as ever. And Jim, despite his obvious two left feet, never faltered her step and was somehow managing to pick up the steps fairly quickly. Even managing to swing Gran out for a twirl and pull her back in for a dip in Len’s direction. Len laughed and clapped for their performance as they continued to move around their makeshift dance floor. Jim laughing and swaying his hips to the beat of the music.

    Halfway through the song Gran caught Len's eyes over Jim's shoulder. She sent him a look and a nod in Jim's direction, a look that she had given him many a time before that meant “pick up your feet, boy!” and Len merely shook his head. Of course she would have an ulterior motive for the impromptu dance session, of course it involved getting Len to finally make a move on Jim, and of course she would have already figured out that Len would need a shove in the right direction to do so.

    So Len waited until Jim's back was to him again and stood. Gran saw him, and waited until Len was in the perfect position, then quickly turned in Jim's hold and twisted Jim around and snuck away from him. Leaving a very confused Jim halfway through a twirl and partner-less, until he found himself being quickly pulled into a pair of strong steady arms, flawlessly being swept back up into the motions of the dance.

    Len took the lead and Jim easily followed, the two dancing and laughing through the rest of the song. Gran took a step back to watch, loving the bright smile on her grandson’s face, a smile that even reached up to touch his eyes. She knew from the very first time she spoke to Jim that he was something special to Leonard, she knew from the way Len would tell her about Jim when she called every week. They were made for each other and obviously both too damn stubborn to do anything about it. But she would be damned if she was gunna sit back and wait.

    When neither of the boys were paying attention, Gran snuck up to the record player and swiftly switched the song, this time to a much slower one. She smirked as the two faltered at the sudden change in pace, their hands still clasped together, Jim's other arm around Len's neck and Len's holding Jim firmly at the waist. They stopped moving, both of them awkwardly looking away from each other and standing very close. Len watched as his Gran gave him a nod, then silently left the two of them alone in the room closing the door behind her.

    Len smiled and shook his head again. He could always count on his Gran to give him a not so subtle push in the right direction.

    He let go of Jim, who still couldn’t make his eyes, and took a step back. Len held out his hand and as the smooth voice of Elvis began singing the sweet lyrics of “can’t help falling in love with you,” and Jim finally met his gaze as he smiled and asked, “May I have this dance?”

    Jim smiled back and took Len's offered hand, allowing Len to twirl Jim once before pulling him in close, as close to his chest as he could manage, until there was nothing left between them. Len swayed them gently to the music, and as the song went on their steps began getting slower and smaller, until they had almost stopped moving. Len took the hand that was holding Jim's and placed Jim's hand around his neck, using his now free hand to lift Jim's face up to his.

    They were so close, closer then he had ever been to Jim. Their bodies were pressed tightly against each other, noses bumping and eyes half lidded as they stood almost motionless in the living room. While the song played on Len couldn’t help but think just how perfect the lyrics were for the two of them. He had fallen so hard and so fast for Jim Kirk right from day one, and he just couldn’t help it. No matter how many times he told himself it wasn’t the case, they were only friends, or that Jim would never love him back, in this moment he couldn’t help but think that maybe none of that was true. The way Jim was holding him, leaning flush up against his body and wrapped tightly around Len, one hand clutching his neck and the other wound into his hair, he wondered if maybe it were possible that Jim did feel the same way, maybe he could love and be loved by Jim after all.

    He decided then, as he ran a hand up Jim's back and felt the shiver that struck his whole body with the action, that he had to know. He needed to know how Jim felt, and he needed Jim to know how he felt. He couldn’t wait any longer and decided to go for it, he was finally going to make his move. The song was coming to an end and it was now or never. Their faces were already so close, noses touching and breath mixing between them. Len shifted slightly, bringing their lips closer, almost touching. He heard Jim's breathing hitch when their lips brushed against each other, and all Len had to do was press the smallest distance forwards and he would finally be kissing Jim. He was almost there…

    The fire alarm from the kitchen ripped through their moment, the two jumping in surprise with the sudden loud shrieking. After a moment to gather themselves they remembered that they were not alone and pulled away from each other in a panic, Gran was in the kitchen alone, and both went running through the door.

    Gran was standing on a chair by the stove, frantically waving a towel back and forth in front of the alarm over head. Jim quickly sprung into action and ran to the stove turning off the burners and opening windows. Len followed Jim further into the kitchen and looked up to his Gran who shot him an apologetic look and whispered, “I'm sorry, Lenny.”

    He just smiled at her, holding up a hand to help her down from the chair once the alarm stopped screaming at them. “What happened, Gran?”

    “Well, I thought you and Jimmy might like some ice cream and custard,” she began, knowing full well already that she had ruined anything that might have had a chance of happening in that room between them, “turned my back for a second to grab the custard mix and the damn milk boiled over and started burning. I'm sorry, boys.”

    Len gave her back a quick rub and Jim turned to shoot her a smile. “No worries, Gran, Bones and I will clean this right up for you.”

    “Yeah, Gran, why don’t you go sit in the living room. We’ll be in once we’re finished.”

    “You boys are too good to me,” she gave them both a pat on the arm as she walked past them and back into the living room, settling herself back into the rocking chair.

    It wasn’t too long before both boys came back, ice cream in hand for the three of them. She may have accidentally ruined the moment earlier with the burning milk fiasco, but it didn’t miss her eyes when Jim sat on the couch next to Len this time instead of the other couch. She also didn’t miss when Jim pushed himself even closer to Len, so close that their sides were touching from shoulder to knee, and Len's neck and face turned a shade of red so deep her roses would be jealous.

    They finished off their second desert of the night and turned on an old movie, but she was less interested in that and more so in what was happening on the couch to her left. From the corner of her eye she watched as Jim, who was already pressed right up against Len, shifted impossibly closer and leaned his head on Len's shoulder. Not soon after, Len lifted his arm inviting Jim to curl in, which he took no time in doing, and held Jim close to his side, placing his free hand on Jim's thigh and rubbing small circles in the soft skin there.

    It may not have gone exactly how she had planned it, but she couldn’t help but think to herself, point one for Gran!

~~~~~~~~~~~

    Len placed the padd on Jim's side table and took both his hands in his. “Do you remember that Jim? Dancing with me in the living room?”

    With the padd and logs forgotten for now, Len dove deeper into those treasured memories back in Georgia. “I remember it as if it were yesterday. You and me, swaying to Elvis in Gram’s living room. I… almost kissed you that day, I wish I had, and every day after that I wanted to. I guess I just never got the nerve to actually go through with it, with telling you how I felt or kissing you.” He sighed, giving Jim's hands a squeeze, “I doubted it at first, assumed maybe I was just reading signals wrong, but after our visit with Gran I knew there was more between us then just friendship, but I never wanted to push you.”

    Len chuckled. His Gran was right, they really were two stubborn and hard headed boys. “I guess both of us were waiting for the other to make the first move, and now look at us. I nearly went mad while you were missing and you're here unconscious and…” he took a steadying breath, “you're here and I can touch you, and feel you but I can’t… I can’t have you until you wake up, Jim. Just wake up for me, I don’t want anymore lost time between us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Sooooo getting into some sweet memories!! XD I’m looking forward to writing more of these!

Would anyone like a little sneak peak...? Ok then!

So things to look forwards to: Cowboy hats, possibly more dancing, and...... THE POND!

As always if anyone wants to be tagged for the future, or any other fics, just let me know :D

Tags: @goingknowherewastaken @bi-e-ne @weresilver-in-space @0dannyphantom0 @haveyouseenmymind @medicatemedrmccoy @resistance-is-futile81 @jimboy-mccoy @reading-in-moonlight @flaminglupine

[missarcheron]

A Tale of Nymphs III

Guys, thank you so much for your lovely comments :) Here’s the new chapter with the dramatic title I SERVE DEATH, lol. I kind of don’t know whether people actually want to be tagged, so if you do, just tell me! I’ll include you from next time on.

Here’s the link to the first two chapters. The next one is called “Claiming” and I’ll post it as soon as I can!                                    

                                        Chapter Three: I serve Death

Lucien stands frozen amidst his soldiers that are only now catching up to them. Andras calls something over to him. He seems light years away. Lucien can barely hear him. There is only his own heartbeat, pulsing louder and louder in his chest.

And the girl in his arms. Nothing but her face, her lips, her golden hair; nothing but those three words she has uttered before she went unconscious. I know you.

I know you, too, his heart sings. I have known you since the beginning of time and will know you until this world is nothing but ash and wind. You’re mine. My opposite and yet my other half. Hello, you.

Some part of Lucien registers that Andras orders the men away. He registers the quietness around them, he notices the green patches in the ground where the snow is melting and little grass stalks peek through the ice; the spots where she has touched the earth.

But then his mind focuses on her, really focuses on her- and the first shock at holding his mate in his arms is replaced by the shock of holding his mate in his arms and her being hurt. She’s wet, her lips are blue, her skin feels cold. Bruises are all over her body; her knee is bleeding. Not to mention that she is unconscious.

Because of him.

“Andras”, Lucien chokes. “She’s my mate.” He slowly looks at his friend, trembling slightly. “This nymph. She is my mate.”

Andras opens his mouth. Glances at the girl, back to Lucien. “Are you sure?”

Lucien wants to laugh. Andras might as well ask if he’s sure that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night. Nothing has ever been as solid to him as the bond that he feels tighten between them.

“Yes”, he rasps. “By the cauldron, Andras, she is my mate. And I chased her like a wild animal. She’s hurt. Because of me.”

Andras seems slightly overwhelmed by the situation. “What do you want me to do?”

“She needs warm clothes”, Lucien rambles. “Clothes, and we need to take care of her wounds- now- where’s Tamlin?”

“Leading the men back to the palace. He left us two horses.”

Lucien swears. She’s in no condition to ride. And winnowing is impossible ever since winter came to his lands. He could perhaps carry her all the way home- his strength has not yet left him- but no; she will freeze to death if she stays in these wet clothes any longer.

“We need to get her somewhere warm”, Lucien says, his thoughts tumbling everywhere. She’s the girl from the pond. She’s the girl from all my dreams. It’s her. “What about the hunting lodges?”, he manages. “Shouldn’t there be one close by?”

“Yes”, Andras says, “I’d have to search for it, but there is one”- he stops in the middle of his sentence. “Lucien! Look!”

Andras is staring at her dress. When Lucien follows his gaze, he sees that the fabric, wet and ripped before, slowly starts to dry up, the tears merging together by some invisible hand. Even her skin begins to fill with life once more, color returning to her cheeks, her hair no longer cold and damp, but falling softly over her neck.

“She’s the source of it”, Andras whispers. “She is healing herself. She’s immune to the cold- might she be a nymph of the sun? Of summer?”

“No- I have seen their kind”, Lucien murmurs, almost to himself. “They are affected by the cold even more so than we are. It is the same for the elements- water nymphs do not like to walk the desert- fire nymphs tend to shy rain...” Who is she, that something that would have brought sure death to mortals, that would even have affected the fair folk to a certain degree, doesn’t touch her at all?

“She’s still unconscious”, Lucien says then. “Let us bring her to the lodge anyways. I have to think.”

“Do you know what you are going to do?”

Lucien doesn’t have to answer. It’s obvious he doesn’t.

-

When Elain wakes, she is lying in a comfortable bed. The bed itself is inside a small, cozy hut, and through the windows she can see the snowy landscape.

She’s alone.

Slowly easing herself up into a sitting position, she tries to figure out what has happened. She remembers being chased up the hill- she remembers the fall, the blood

And she remembers the man- remembers his red hair, his missing eye. His arms around her. And that strange feeling of knowing him…

Was he one of those men hunting her? Or has he saved her? And where is she, for that matter?

She rolls out of bed, crosses the room and opens the door. When she steps outside, wild flowers are tickling her feet. Under a blossoming cherry tree, a man sits and laughs at some little creature on his finger, a bug perhaps, or an ant.

Then he turns, and notices her. Her heart sinks, for whatever reason. “You’re not him”, she blurts out before she can think of anything else. The man in front of her has dark hair, shining, yellow eyes, and brown skin; he is dressed all in black. He is not the one she has seen right before she went unconscious.

The man jumps up, rubbing the dirty earth off his pants. “My name is Andras, my Lady. Don’t worry. I do not want you any harm.”

The fact that he says that makes Elain a little nervous. Should she worry about him wanting her any harm? But she has seen him laughing at the bug- surely that means he’s no slaughtering madman?

“It’s amazing”, the man breathes. “All of this.” He gestures around, towards the grass, the blooming tree. “I have not seen the flowers in ages. Or any animals.”

“You live here, then?” Elain hugs her arms to her chest. Her dress is pink again, ending just above her knees.

“Yes, my Lady.” The man bows his head slightly. “I am a servant of Death.”

That does not exactly calm Elain. “Well, that is- nice”, she says. “I must say I have never met such a being. What- ah- what is it exactly that you do?” Her mind is racing now. Servant of Death? That does not sound too good. She feels strong again- she could probably run, if she wanted…but she has no clue where she is. This court seems to be gigantic; she might just be fleeing further into its heart.

And if he is the servant of death, then where the hell has she landed? Her own phrasing sends shivers down Elain’s spine- surely, she is not really in hell, is she? She has not much concerned herself with death before. She’s young, and a nymph, after all. All that surrounds her is alive. Why should she think of anything else?

“I serve my master”, Andras replies. “The Lord of Death.”

Elain swallows. This just keeps getting worse and worse. “How charming”, she says. “This is his realm then, I suppose?”

Andras nods, and his face lights up when he sees something behind Elain’s back. “My Lady”, he says gently. “There he is.”

Elain knows he’s talking about the red-haired man before she even turns around. But when she does, a shock still goes through her- that feeling that she somehow knows him. He is standing a few meters away, dressed in green shirt and black trousers, his red hair is combed back behind his head, and he looks at her like she is a little bunny. His head is tilted to the side, and a small smile play on his lips. He is waiting. As if she is supposed to do something.  

“Who are you?”, Elain asks stupefied, even though Andras has just told her that she is literally standing in front of the Lord of Death. Whatever that means.

“My name’s Lucien”, he says. His voice is dark and a little husky. “I command this realm.”

Elain is still frozen to the ground. Something about him calls out to her. She shoves the thought away. She might be in danger right now. She has to do something, not drool over some stranger.

“Were those your soldiers that chased me through the woods?”, she asks, a little louder. “Were you the one hunting me?”

“I had no other choice”, Lucien says. “This is the realm of the Dead. When something living trespasses, I need to hunt it down.”

“I thought these were the Winter Lands”, Elain murmurs. “But if you are indeed the Lord of Death…if this is your realm, then…” She trails off.

Lucien’s smile widens. “Yes, love?”

“Am I dead?”, she blurts out. “I do not recall dying, for that matter. But then again, I am not very experienced at it.”

Lucien laughs a little. “I assure you, you are quite alive.” He is still looking at her like he expects something to happen, a firework maybe, or an earthquake.

“That does not make sense”, Elain insists, narrowing her eyes. “You told me that you hunt every living thing in these woods down. Are you not alive, then? Is Andras not alive? What about your soldiers?”

“No- it’s complicated.” Lucien drives a hand through his hair. “They are alive, and this land used to be, too, but it froze over one day when the bride of Death didn’t arrive, and ever since then we are caught in the middle between everything.”

He must realize that is talking nonsense, Elain thinks. She doesn’t understand a word of what he is saying. Caught in the middle of everything? Bride of Death? He is lying. He is trying to tell her stories to buy himself time. She can tell that he is still tense- still waiting- and it occurs to her that he might just be waiting for her to walk into a trap.

She pushes her magic into the winds once again. Feyre, she calls out. I am here. Come. I need you.

“I don’t understand”, she says to Lucien. “Where am I?”

Andras, who has walked over to Lucien, puts a hand on his master’s arm and says quietly: “You are overwhelming her, my Lord.”

Lucien glances at Elain, the murmurs something to his friend, dismissing him. Andras nods once again in Elain’s direction. “It was wonderful to meet you, my Lady. I look forward to seeing you again.” He disappears into the woods before she can say something back. Something like, why would you ever see me again?

When he is gone, Lucien takes a deep breath. “I am sorry for confusing you, my Lady. Tell me- what is your name?”

She raises her chin. She will not show fear. “Elain.”

“Elain”, he repeats her name softly. Something about the way he says it tugs at her core, deep inside.

“I wish to return home”, she tells him. “I have been gone far too long, and my mother and my sisters are already looking for me. Will you tell me the way?”

“Ah…” Lucien tugs at his sleeve. “Yes. About that.” He clears his throat. “I actually think you should stay here.”

“Here?” Elain crosses her arms. “Why would I stay in this little hut?” “No, not here”- Lucien points to the trees behind him. “I mean my palace. My court. My lands.”

“What are you even talking about?” Elain shakes her head. “I have a home already, and I will be Lady of Spring one day. I can’t stay in some dead realm.”

His eyes dart back to her. She can tell that behind his calm appearance, his mind is racing. He is calculating this whole situation. Planning. Scheming.

“Lady of Spring, is that so”, he says quietly. “I take it you’re a spring nymph, then.”

“I am”, Elain replies. “And I will definitely not stay in some frozen winter country that is ruled by the dead. I can’t even touch snow.”

“Cauldron.” Lucien closes his eyes. “This is no coincidence. Elain, I beg you, come with me to my palace, and I will explain it all to you.”

She steps back. “I will not.”

He opens his eyes to glare at her. “I am not joking. This is a matter of life and death. In the very literal sense of the word.”

He’s actually desperate. She can tell. But he’s also a stranger, and confusing, and she doesn’t know what to make of that weird connection she feels between the two of them.

“I wish I could help”, she answers softly. “I truly do. But there is nothing here for me. I feel no life anywhere. Whatever happened to your realm…I can’t fix it.”

“It’s not just that”, Lucien rasps. “It’s also- you’re- I don’t know how to explain it. You should be able to feel it. You’re my”-

In that moment, the cherry tree behind them explodes. The impact throws Elain forward, and Lucien catches her once again. It’s almost as if he’s just waiting around all the time for her to fall into his arms. “I got you”, he pants, and Elain is too distracted by the sudden inferno that’s unravelling before her eyes to really notice that he does not let go of her, that he keeps holding her. Protecting her.

The cherry tree has turned into a gigantic bonfire. Elain suddenly thinks she can make out something inside the flames- a shape, walking towards them. Wielding a massive sword. It might be a person… and then Nesta emerges from the fire, blazing eyes, burning shadow. She stalks towards them with the promise of a slow death in her eyes.

Like a night breeze, darkness suddenly weeps over the meadow and swallows the flames; where there was brightness a few seconds ago, an unnatural, pitch-black smoke now curls around the dead stem of the burnt tree. Out of the shadows, Feyre steps next to Nesta, blackness swirling around her hands. Only her eyes glitter brightly, like two stars in the night sky.

“You.” Feyre stares at Lucien. Her voice is ice- cold. “You have taken our sister. You have insulted our mother. You have broken every treaty. Now we have come to kill you.”

-

Sometimes Lucien wonders why the universe hates him so much. Not only is his realm dying, his oldest friend a skeleton and his palace a sordid ruin- no, he also has to find out that his mate is the daughter of his family’s arch enemy, and her sisters are out to murder him.

He still has one arm around Elain’s waist, and he really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now, but she’s so delicate and soft next to him that it’s almost confusing. It’s easy to contemplate the possibility of taking her with him right here and now- he could simply whisk her away, bring her somewhere where no one would ever find her. Keep her for himself.  

But would she forgive him for that? She’d hate him forever; no, that is not an option.

And yet. She is his mate. And he needs her. He can sense it in his core: Elain is the piece missing from these lands. She’s the thing they need to restore balance to the realm of the dead. She must be; it all makes sense. If her mother is truly the Lady of Spring…

“No!” Elain’s voice is loud. “Feyre. Nesta. Put your weapons down.” When her sisters don’t react, she balls a fist. “Now!”

“He is death, Elain”, the fire nymph barks. “He’s dangerous and probably wants to kill you.”

Lucien is a little bit insulted. “I only serve death”, he clarifies. “And I don’t want to murder Elain. Trust me. I really, really don’t.”

The second he takes her name into his mouth, the other woman roars, “Step away from her right now!”

Elain slips out from under his arm, and for the smallest second, Lucien wants to draw her back- but that’s impossible, of course. “Elain”, he says, his voice stupidly raw. “My realm needs you, and I need you too. Please hear me out.”

She bites her lip. Lucien’s heart beats faster at that. “I can’t”, she says. “I should have never come back.”

The fire nymph is walking towards them now, and Lucien grabs Elain’s hand in a desperate attempt to keep her close. When he touches her skin, a small electric shock goes through his entire body. She has felt it too: he sees how her eyes widen in shock.

“You know I am speaking the truth”, Lucien implores. “Look at me. You do.”

Elain opens her mouth, but the fire nymph has reached her and drags her back by the wrist. “You’re lucky our Elain is kind and wants to spare you”, she spits in his direction. “But hear this, Lucien Vanserra: if you come near her one more time, my sister here will end you.”

Lucien glances at the dark nymph. She only bares her teeth in the most gruesome smile. They are definitely not joking.

Darkness swirls up into a storm, and all the icy trees around them are roaring as the winds sweep over the whole meadow and whisk the three sisters away.

When the smoke clears, the world is ice and death once more. The ground is covered in snow. The cherry tree is burnt to the ground, an ugly black mark in the bleak landscape.

All that she has brought. All the life she has created. That life, that somehow seems to follow her everywhere.

Gone.